New Kid Stories 02: I Need an Adult
by JustCallMeButtLord
Summary: The New Kid finds themselves the target of a pedophile teacher and must work with their friends to expose them to the school authorities. [Second installment of the New Kid Stories series, rated M For coarse language, attempted pedophilia, violence. Contains mild romantic elements of CisFemale! New Kid x Kenny and suggestions of Bi-curious Butters. Cover image by user cortillaan]
1. Scary Teachers Can Provide Entertainment

_**Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, persons of all persuasions and genders, I welcome thee to the second installment of New Kid Stories!**_

For those who have just landed here from the story list and didn't see the previous story, _not to worry-_ the New Kid Stories are written in an _episodic_ fashion which allows each fic to be self-contained while also being part of a larger whole. Think of them as my own personal fan-scripts that include the New Kid from the South Park video games _Stick of Truth_ and _The Fractured But Whole._ All you really need to know to get started is that my New Kid is Cis Female, and that she goes by _Dee,_ related to the fact that both of her nicknames early on started with the letter 'D'- _Douchebag_ and _Dragonborn._

 _All of that said, you are most welcome to go back and read the first of these stories-_ it can be found on my author page under the title _**Vaccinations Do Not Cause Zombies!**_ Though, be warned, it gets a little... _serious._

For those of you who just arrived _from_ the previous story, _THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING ALONG!_ All the same caveats from the last time 'round still apply; but I'll put them here just in case anyone forgot: _The project of the New Kid Stories is my personal pleasure project that I work on when I am too stressed to work on my larger creative endeavors. Since it's something I do for_ _ **fun,**_ _I don't ruin it for myself by pursuing technical perfection before upload. There_ _ **will**_ _be grammar errors, there_ _ **will**_ _be silly spelling mistakes that slip through the cracks because the fanfiction doc-manager likes to delete spaces between words sometimes, and I am human and occasionally use language incorrectly._ I welcome being notified of these errors so that I can find and fix them, but please do so in a respectful manner.

Last but not least, a disclaimer: _**The following story will contain descriptions of sexual harassment, coercion of a minor by a teacher, and other things that may make certain members of my reading audience uncomfortable. It is not my intent to treat this subject matter lightly, nor disrespect any survivors of similar situations. Rest assured, the perpetrator of these acts will get their just desserts before this story is over.**_

 **[Additional Edit after finishing the story]** So remember that promise that this story wasn't going to be AS DARK as the last one...? Well, that didn't necessarily work out. Oops. IT LIGHTENS UP AFTER CHAPTER SIX, I PROMISE. I mean, it's still heavy as shit in places, but there's more jokes?

Hokay? _Hokay!_

 _On  
_ _With  
_ _The  
_ _Fic!_

 _OWTF!_

 **:: I Need An Adult – Scary Teachers Can Provide Entertainment Value::**

Dee was at school.

Was it the first day of middle school? No, it couldn't have been the first day. She had _missed_ the first day, due to her mother calling her in sick. She _had_ been sick- hadn't she?

In one version of the first day of school, she had. In another version, she had not. She could remember them both, but this moment refused to delay just because she was _disoriented._ No, it insisted on carrying her forward, into a classroom she both _did_ and _did not_ remember. There was a seating chart at the front, and she knew she needed to look at it and find out where she was going to sit.

All at once, her mind accepted this experience for what it was. She simply _knew_ it was the first day of school, and she was just arriving to her first-hour science class. She knew, _or remembered?_ She'd been bummed out because neither Kenny, Stan, nor Kyle shared this class with her, but she knew she'd see them later in the day during gym. They could all hang out at lunch, too. For now, she'd just have to hope one of her other friends shared this class with her- maybe Butters, or Tweek- Jimmy would be cool, too. Maybe even Wendy? Ah, but if they hung out too much, people would start to _talk-_ the school's population still assumed Dee was a boy, after all. The pair of them hanging out together could possibly get the rumor mill churning out some rather _off-color_ things about pretty much the _only_ girl Dee would call a friend without any sort of qualification.

Thankfully, the seating arrangement the teacher had already drawn up would decide who was sharing which two-person black slate table, and thus decided defacto lab partners, skipping over kids whining to be with their friends or up starting rumors over whom was sitting with whom for whatever reason. Peering at the seating chart, Dee did not find her name. Of course she didn't- her parents had already spoken to the school to ensure teachers would not use her real name on any sort of published lists, use it in classes, or otherwise- part of their ongoing efforts to keep their child hidden from the government and _safe._ Instead, she sought out her spot by finding the only _empty_ spot on the chart.

Doing so caused her heart to sink, because of the name next to that empty spot.

Cartman _also_ had first-hour science.

A moment of faux serendipity; the pair of them would be lab partners for the rest of the year unless she broke her own habit for silence and _complained_ about it- and even then, that was no promise that the seating arrangement would actually be _changed._ Dee decided it wasn't worth it, found her seat, and the classroom filled. Cartman was nearly the last one in, finding his name on the seating chart, turning to see Dee, and arriving with a _superior smile_ pasted to his face. The _fat fuck_ then had the audacity to lean over and whisper "Dodged a real bullet there, eh Douchebag? You coulda gotten a _stupid chick_ as a lab partner."

 _What I would give to be sitting with Bebe right now, Cartman. What I would fucking **give.**_

Once everyone was seated, the teacher got started with class- beginning with going through the names on the class list to confirm both who was present; as well as notate any preferred names or nicknames. Dee almost winced as " _Leopold Scotch?"_ Was called out only for a quick cry of " _Butters!_ P-please, ma'am." To be given in response by the embarrassed blond boy who had been sat near the back in the company of Heidi. Several kids giggled. Clyde was somewhere up front, across from Tweek and Craig who had _somehow_ ended up at the same table; Dee suspected they had stolen the luck she would have required _not_ to get sat where she was.

"Eric Cartman?" The teacher called out, blissfully ignorant of what kind of trouble was currently sitting in her class like a small elephant in the room.

" _HERE TEACHER!"_ Cartman's voice was a shrill shout as his hand shot up into the air. "And these days I like to be called... _Overlord of the Universe."_

 _How? How do you say these things without an ounce of self-consciousness or embarrassment?_

The teacher, however- a graying woman, perhaps in her late forties by the name of Ms. Lehman, appeared unfazed. "That's very nice, Mr. Overlord, but in _this_ classroom we tend to go with _names,_ not _titles."_

Scattered giggles. Dee spied Bebe at the table just to the right and in front of her own, her head dropping into her palm in disbelief.

"That _is_ my name, Ms. Teacher." Cartman insisted with a faux oblivious smile. "My first name is Overlord, I have two middle names- of, the, and then my last name is _Universe!"_

" _Really?"_ Ms. Lehman appeared to be surprised and amazed, eyebrows rising up towards her hairline and tapping a pen against the clip board she was holding in her hand. It was the same board that had been at the front of the room, with the seating chart everyone had to reference to find their spots affixed to it. "Well, that's _very interesting_ Mr. Universe, because I don't have you on my class roster, and if you _didn't belong_ in this classroom, I'd have to call the main office and tell them someone had intruded upon my class. You see, for that seat I have an _Eric Cartman_ on my list, and if you're _not_ Eric Cartman..."

The giggling stopped. Ms. Lehman's voice had started out humoring and sweet, but had grown menacing near the end. The look she gave Cartman was one that had _zero_ time for his bullshit. It wasn't the look that sent kids to the school counselor. To Dee, it was a look that made her want to _dig her own grave_ so she could hide in it... and it wasn't even directed at her.

"... I'll just have to have you _removed."_

The way she spoke was _icy,_ in a way that seemed to be warning the whole class against such tomfoolery. Even Cartman, famous for his ability to ignore that which obviously was dangerous to him, had stiffened up in his chair as the horrible sense of _mortal dread_ filled the room. The way she said _removed_ conjured up images of blood and terror, defined by a half-smirk that _dared_ someone to misbehave; as to give her the perverse _pleasure_ of doling out punishment.

" _I-I'M ERIC CARTMAN, MISS TEACHER!"_

A shiver passed down Dee's spine as she gulped back a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. This teacher _wasn't_ fucking around. _Note to self, do_ _ **not**_ _piss her off. Good fucking Christ, who the fuck is she? Death's angry niece?_

In an instant, Ms. Lehman's face transformed from a cruel smirk to a twisted grin, where all teeth were put on display in a menacing charade of a smile. " _Wonderful._ Glad we could get that figured out."

Roll call continued, and the students in the room began to breathe again. It only took Cartman a matter of moments to recover, and he quickly returned to doing what he did best- _annoying the hell out of anyone within arm's reach._

"Hey, Douchebag."

He was whispering, but Dee knew he'd turn up the volume and bring Ms. Lehman's attention back to them if she didn't at least _look_ at him. She turned her head, just enough to _acknowledge_ Cartman. Brows arched up and her mouth remained a tight and disapproving line.

"You don't have to give me that look, Douchebag." Cartman assured, reaching out as if they were best friends and patting Dee on the shoulder. "I know you're sorry for ignoring me this morning- and just to show that _I'm_ the better man, I'll totally let you in on my amazing prank after _skewl_ today. You in?"

 _Prank? Ignoring him?_ Dee felt as if she'd tripped over something, missing a beat as her mind grappled with a memory that didn't appear to be there. What was he talking about...? His prank hadn't happened, _this hadn't happened. She had undone that- she remembered, she remembered undoing this day and making it go a different way._

Like a splash of cold water to the face, Dee snapped to her senses. Hands slapped down on the table she and Cartman sat at and she stood up so quickly her chair was knocked over.

As soon as she deviated, the scene _crumbled._ Windows went black like someone had flicked off a switch. The faces of her peers vanished like chalk being blasted off a sidewalk with a high-pressure hose. The teacher went still, almost like a mannequin, and the classroom flaked apart in the same manner as old and dried out paint. In a moment, the whole room was consumed, and Dee was alone in the dark.

That was good. That meant she was going to _wake up._

* * *

"I mean, dreaming of aborted timelines is nothing _new_ for me, it's just... _unsettling,_ I guess? It feels weird talking about it."

" _Maybe because you're not used to talking about anything aloud?_ _ **Ever?**_ _"_ Muffled speech answered her digression, mumbled beneath a tight orange hood that kept the chill air away from the speaker's face.

"Fair bet-It's _all_ weird."

The bus wasn't coming for a bit longer, but Dee always made a point out of being the first one at the stop. The habit was only getting reinforced these days, as Kenny had been showing up earlier to hang out with her before the rest of the guys arrived. She didn't know _why,_ but to be entirely fair she hadn't asked. They were _friends_ , after all. If he wanted to get up early to freeze his butt off with her every school morning, that was his prerogative. She _supposed_ she had to assume that he enjoyed her company on some level, and the fact that she was now _speaking_ to him- a unique privilege she'd trusted him with because, out of all her friends, she knew he could keep a goddamned secret.

 _And because she **liked** talking to him, but that was beside the point. _

This particular morning was a lot like plenty others in the past couple of weeks since they'd started the brand-new adventure that was _middle school,_ only made different by the fact that their conversation was more than rumors, gossip, or ripping on people they knew. No, Kenny had noticed pretty much instantly that something had been _off_ with Dee this morning, and asked... and despite some part of her brain jumping up and down screaming it was _none of his damned business,_ she told him about her little nocturnal episode anyway.

Maybe she was hoping it would make her feel better?

" _Ms. Lehman is a total fucking bitch, though. She chewed me out for my muffler! There's no fucking school rule against scarves!"_

 _That_ was certainly the truth. " _Tell_ me about it- yesterday she got on my case for wearing the same hoodie every day, saying it was _unhygienic_ \- like it takes more than a day to wash this thing?" She gestured to her bright blue hoodie beneath her black winter coat; a staple of her daily attire if only because its baggy bulk protected her more feminine body shape from being recognized as she underwent the unfortunate process of _growing up._

" _But do you **actually** wash it?"_

" _Fuck no!"_ She snickered, finding a smile despite herself. "One run through the dryer would ruin the fuzzy inside layer- dad _never_ checks the tags, he just runs _everything_ at high heat."

He laughed, but was cut short before he said anything else. Part of this time they shared was the constant _look-out_ for other members of their usual group approaching so Dee could _shut the hell up_ before someone heard her talking that she didn't _want_ to hear her voice. He'd glanced up the way to do his due diligence, and put his hand up to _hush_ Dee with a finger getting pressed up where his mouth presumably was beneath his parka's hood. Glancing up the way herself, she saw Cartman walking his rather _rotund_ self down the sidewalk. He wouldn't _get_ there for a few more minutes, but the fucker still had _eyes_ and _ears;_ it was always best to put the breaks on their conversations early to be certain that Dee's desire for personal privacy was respected.

" _Douchebaaaaaaaaag. Yo! Douchebag! Dude!"_

 _Oh fuck, he's calling for me? … this doesn't bode well._ Dee's thoughts were rarely positive things when Cartman wanted her attention, but she lifted her head to look at him anyway as he got closer to the bus stop. Eyebrows raised, hands tucking into the pockets of her big black overcoat as she made a mild attempt to _give a fuck._

It was only at this point that she realized Cartman was actually _jogging._ Or what could be qualified as jogging for his weight class, she supposed. Either way, he arrived at the bus stop both faster than expected and slightly winded, his hands coming to his knees as he tried to get his breath back.

" _Douchebag, Douchebag..."_ He panted, swallowing briefly. "You gotta... _you gotta help me,_ I am in _so... so much shit... right now."_

 _Behold my barren field of fucks, Cartman. You salted the goddamn earth ages ago._ Her stare didn't change, her mouth remaining a flat line as she watched him without pity.

" _You don't understand!"_ He crowed, already defensive and he hadn't even said what was _wrong,_ yet. "There was a _Terrance and Phillip_ marathon last night, I... I _had_ to watch it! I didn't _mean_ to, but..." He gulped for air, finally standing straight again. "I _totally_ forgot about the homework from science class!"

 _And you suddenly care about homework... why?_ Dee actually blinked. Seeing Cartman panicked about an undone assignment was _new,_ to say the least.

" _That stupid bitch teacher is gonna rape my ass if I miss another assignment!_ Douchebag, you don't want her to rape me, right? _Right?_ Lemme see yours- I'll just copy it real quick an' then nothing terrible has to happen to me. You'll do that for me, right Douchebag?"

 _That_ got her lips to curve in to a smile. No, no, that wasn't true- it was a _smirk._ Oh, this was _precious._ Cartman? Begging to copy her work? She doubted he'd be so open with his request if he knew she was actually a blooming young woman under her layers of warm clothes. Actually, scratch that- he'd still ask, he'd just be a lot more _demeaning_ in the way he asked.

 _Give me one good fucking reason to help you, asshat._

"... why aren't you pulling your assignment outta your bag?" Cartman asked, clearly unable to comprehend that she might _decline_ his request for aid. "I'm not gonna drop it in the snow or nothin' if that's what you're worried about."

" _Dude, he's not gonna give it to you."_

Did her ears deceive her, or did Kenny sound rather _entertained_ as he helped Cartman understand?

" _WHAT?!_ Oh, that is so fucking _weak,_ Douchebag- way to leave a _fucking friend_ hanging! Kenny, you've got that _fucking ho bitch_ Lehman, too, right? Lemme see yours."

" _What'll you give me for it?"_

"Give you for it...? _SERIOUSLY?!_ I know your family is _fucking poor,_ Kenny, but it's called helping a friend out of the goodness of your _fucking heart!"_

Kenny shrugged, letting out a sort of ' _eh'_ noise.

"You _both_ are so full of _shit!_ Why are you always here so goddamned early, anyway?! Gay-ass fucking _assholes!"_

Dee's smirk had not waned. For the first time since school started, she actually found herself _looking forward_ to her shared first hour with Cartman- everyone could agree that Ms. Lehman was a scary fucking lady, but that didn't stop her from _enjoying_ it when said scary lady focused her attention on Cartman.

Today was shaping up to be a good day.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Did I use a dream sequence to squeeze in a 'deleted scene' from the previous story into this one? Why yes, yes I did. I know it's kitschy, but I _really_ liked that introduction to Ms. Lehman back when I penned it during the last story... but _she had nothing to do with the last story._ I realized half-way through writing the scene that it wasn't moving the story forward in any meaningful way, but I liked it too much to just _delete_ it, so I saved it in a scraps folder. Low and behold, Ms. Lehman _is_ important to _this_ story, so I decided to use it... even if starting a story with a dream sequence is _cliched_ at best and _horribly overused_ at worst. I hope it was good enough for y'all to forgive me.

Also- _I really enjoy writing Cartman not getting his way._

 _Also also-_ I have stayed up entirely too late getting this first chapter ready to hit the web. I thank everyone who followed me here from the first story, and I'd like to take this moment to just say _hello!_ To all the new readers as well. Your support is more appreciated than I can say.

See ya on the next chapter,

- _Buttlord_


	2. A Reversal of Fortune

**:: I Need an Adult – A Reversal of Fortune::**

There _had_ to have been a mistake. This couldn't have been _right._

Science class had started out normal enough, with Ms. Lehman calling for everyone to hand in their assignments from yesterday before getting the lesson for today started- discussing the different kind of rocks that existed and how they were produced before assigning vocabulary words that would need to be copied down into everyone's notebooks, and then defined using the reading section from their textbooks. Brief lecture led into work time, all while Dee enjoyed the subtle delight that was watching Cartman _sweat-_ he had turned in his assignment from the night before, with answered copied from Kenny after paying the kid five dollars for the privilege after both Stan and Kyle told him they weren't going to help him _cheat_ just because he watched TV all night and ignored his homework.

And then, within five minutes of the end of class, with Cartman continuously complaining about how stupid vocab skimming was, Ms. Lehman began to move through the room to pass everyone's marked papers back to them. _This_ was the moment Dee had been looking forward to, that had made Cartman's antics _bearable_ this morning, as she fully expected Ms. Lehman to flop Cartman's paper in front of him and inform him that she _knew_ these were not his answers, and ask him to _explain_ himself to her.

Instead, Cartman's paper was given to him without incident. He'd even gotten full marks on it- though she somehow doubted he'd be thanking Kenny for the good answers.

Her paper was a _different_ story, however. There had been no score written on it, instead a single sentence scrawled across the top in red marker.

 _See me after class._

 _What the fuck?_ Was all she could think. For a rare moment, she actually wanted to shout it aloud. Could she get away with a pause in time to trip Ms. Lehman in her continued path of handing back papers? It wouldn't take much; ripping ass to freeze time was probably the easiest of the abilities she utilized with her highly controlled sphincter, and she'd been improving over the years- she was capable of freezing the world around her for a full thirty seconds while she moved about to grab, switch, re-arrange, and punch things as needed... but she couldn't quickly identify any handy things to move into the teacher's way before her thought process was interrupted.

"Whoa, Douchebag... glad I didn't get answers from _you."_ Cartman marveled. "You're dumber than the fucking poor kids, that takes _talent."_

Dee's head snapped to the right to _glare_ at him, reaching out and snatching his assignment with its ill-gotten answers.

" _-Hey!_ It's not gonna help you _now,_ Douchebag, that's not how homework _works_ you fucking _retard."_

His chubby hands tried to snatch it back from her, oddly sharp nails actually doing a little damage as she tried to swat him away long enough to compare their answers.

 _That_ was worth a pause. She couldn't read the paper while _fighting_ him for it, so instead she let him have it back as she focused on her _anus_ instead of her _hands._

When she let that particular stinker go, the hands of the clock stopped ticking. Ms. Lehman had frozen near the back of the room, and Cartman was in the process of clutching his paper to his chest. Now that he wasn't moving, she was able to work it back out of his hands with minimal tearing and get a proper look at it.

 _All of their answers were the same._ They were Kenny's answers, stolen, but correct- which meant her paper was _also_ correct.

 _What the hell is going on here? There must be some kind of mistake. Maybe she thought my paper was Cartman's? No, she handed it back to me personally, she knows it's mine... but I haven't done anything wrong! I **like** this class!_

Time resumed while she was still holding the page. Cartman's now empty hands opened in surprise, his fingers wiggling as his chin jerked down to stare at his empty palms before he spotted the page in Dee's hand. In the background, several near-by students made noises of disgust as the smell of _dumpster fire_ spread through the room with Dee at the center of the cloud.

" _Fucking weak,_ Douchebag." Cartman glared, both hands slapping around the page in a way that crumpled it as he finally took it back once and for all. "Using your fuckin' farty _smoke and mirrors_ at _skewl_ , like that's _fair."_

 _More fair than what's happening right now._ She didn't fight him for it, shrugging and leaning back in her chair with a disheartened sigh. What the hell did the teacher have against _her?_ She'd never misbehaved. Yeah, sure, she didn't _talk,_ which precluded participating in class, but _seriously? What the fuck?_ If anyone deserved this sort of treatment, it was _Cartman,_ not _her._

With a defined huff, she snatched up her book and snapped it shut, shoving it into her bag before the bell rang. If the teacher was already making her stay after class ended, she didn't see much goddamn point in putting the effort in to get the vocab done- besides, anything she didn't do _with_ Cartman the fatass would have to do on his own, and she didn't feel much like being his crutch right now. He cried out when she yanked her notebook from the table, taking with it all of the terms she'd already defined that he'd been copying down in his own untidy scrawl.

" _Hey! Asshole, I needed that!"_

 _Give me a fucking excuse Cartman- you fucking lay a finger on me and I will break your goddamned neck and rewind it so **you** can have nightmares about dying for a couple days. _She did more than give him a _look,_ she was up and out of her chair to _glower_ down at him with every bit of vicious energy she could muster. She was pissed, she felt fucking _betrayed,_ and his antics were really the last damn straw she needed laid upon her back before her will to be _civil_ broke the proverbial camel's spine.

Cartman seemed to see that, and made a quick decision.

" _MISS TEACHER, MY PARTNER'S TRYING TO BEAT ME UP!"_

Ms. Lehman had returned to the front of the room at this point, not that Dee was looking. No, she didn't look until she heard the teacher clearing her throat to get attention. Upon turning, she saw that she was being motioned to the front of the classroom; to her desk that was off to the right corner to keep it out of the way of the whiteboard that made up most of the forward wall.

Barely contained sounds of kids going _'Ooooooo'_ as Dee took the walk of shame made her face flush red with embarrassment, intermingling with the _frustration_ and _rage_ she was already feeling.

Upon arrival, the bell rang. Dee was certain nothing emptied faster than a classroom after the bell, because it took all of _seconds_ for her to be standing alone in this room with a teacher who had seen fit to _punish_ her when she'd done _nothing_ to deserve it.

Just before the door shut behind the last student, she could hear Cartman _gloating_ to someone out in the hall.

 _Son of a goddamn bitch._

"Thank you for coming, ah... _Dee,_ was it? Your parents made it _very_ clear they don't want your name being used in classes. I didn't even get it on my original roster- just a _placeholder."_ Ms. Lehman's chair swiveled away from her computer to turn herself towards the student she'd _summoned_ to her desk, hands folding in her lap. She was a rather _average_ looking woman; with hair that was just beginning to see its first gray streaks and understated makeup on her face that stuck to natural colors. It appeared she defaulted towards long sleeved sweaters; today's was dark blue, matched with a black skirt and white leggings before a set of simple black flats. Dee guess she was even kinda pretty, for a woman her age... though Dee generally found herself more interested in looking at _boys_ when it came to that sort of thing. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to meet me after class, since you didn't have any wrong answers."

 _Thanksgiving turkeys tap-dancing on the edge of a deep-fryer, the woman isn't completely retarded. You're damn right I'm wondering why you fucking bitch ass witch._ Even as the anger bubbled up, Dee found herself struggling with an undercurrent of _fear._ First impressions, even from an aborted timeline, were hard to shake... and Ms. Lehman had demonstrated herself as someone to be _wary_ of on day one.

"Oh, _calm down,_ there's no need to be so _upset._ You're not in trouble." The woman actually graced her with a smile, but even as it masqueraded as _gentle,_ there was a certain _superiority_ to it. She _knew_ she was in control of this situation. That control made Dee uncomfortable- or rather the fact that _she_ didn't have any control at the moment made her uncomfortable. "You see, Dee, I didn't just choose teaching for reliable employment or the fact that I get summers off. I chose it because it was my _calling,_ and I take my work _very_ seriously. Do you know what a teacher's greatest responsibility is to her students, is?"

 _No... but I get the feeling you're gonna tell me._

"It's to be a _guide,_ Dee." She said earnestly, leaning forward in her chair as she looked up at her student. "I'm not just here to teach you the earth and rocks and volcanoes and biodiversity- I am one of the many hands who will help guide _you_ to a full and _fulfilling_ adulthood. Which brings me to the important bit- _why you're here._ You see, every year, I pick one lucky boy to be my... _personal pupil,_ if you will. Someone I tutor not just academically, but in the ways of _life."_

Ms. Lehman stood up from her chair, reaching out to Dee and putting her hands on the young teen's shoulders. Maybe she meant it as a sign of her sincerity, but all it did was make Dee feel _trapped._

 _Would it help if I told you I'm not actually a boy? I could flash you my tits right now, and you could pick someone else._ Even as the idea occurred to her, Dee found herself _unable_ to move. Something about this, maybe the perception of _power_ within the situation? It had left her _boneless,_ just standing there and staring with wide eyes.

"It's a choice I don't take lightly, Dee. Of all my students, I have to choose only one young man to receive my _full_ attention; someone I think _needs_ my help, but will also be _receptive_ to it. Do you understand? I'd like to be your... _mentor,_ as it were."

 _If that were all it was, why do I feel like you're the cat and I'm the mouse?_

The older woman had leaned in. Closer, _too close,_ evening her gaze so that she and Dee were eye-to-eye and quite nearly nose-to-nose.

"It's a very special opportunity. I'm going to teach you things the other boys won't learn for _years-_ it'll give you an edge, and you know the best part? So long as you make me _happy,_ you'll get a perfect A in my class. I'll even give better scores to your friends, if you want me to... or _worse_ scores to kids you don't like, if that's more your style. You strike me as the _vengeful_ type, and Eric isn't exactly the best lab partner, is he? I could move him, switch him with someone you'd rather sit with. Do you have a _crush_ on anyone in class? I _love_ to see my favorites _bloom_ into their own personal romances. Young love is so beautiful."

 _What are you even **talking** about? Are you trying to become my **pimp?** Please just stop. Something is wrong with this._

Alarm bells were screaming in her ears- just in time for the _actual_ bell which was the two-minute warning for kids to hurry on to their next class. In sync with the sound, Ms. Lehman released her and returned to her desk.

"Think about it, Dee. I can be _most accommodating."_ She assured, attention turned to her computer for a moment before her head turned back. "Of course, if you were to _decline..."_

All the _sweetness_ she'd been layering her voice with suddenly dropped away, dissolving with an acidic edge to reveal something sharp and threatening beneath.

"Things might get _awkward._ I'm not sure I'd be able to keep you in my class, you'd just remind me of how _disappointed_ I was that you said _no._ In fact, you might find yourself _kicked out of school entirely."_

 _What? WHAT?_

She looked away again, feigning disinterest. "You should hurry on, you don't want to be late to your second hour."

Dee's steps were slow at first. One, two, three backwards steps that took her further away from whatever had just played out. She wasn't able to identify it just yet, but it had left her _confused_ as her body pumped with adrenaline. Finally, after what was only a few seconds but felt like eternity, she finally found the gear in her brain that read ' _RUN THE FUCK AWAY'_ and turned to scramble for the door.

Barely through the frame, her shoulder collided with a fellow student who was on their way in.

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

She knew that voice- _Kyle._ She jerked back, sharing a moment's glance with him.

"Whoa- _Dee,_ are you okay?" He asked, seeming to register some of the _panic_ that had motivated her to such speeds. "Shouldn't you already be at your next class?"

She blinked. Even her usual deadpan expressions were not functional at the moment. She glanced back, towards the overly smug teacher in the corner at her desk, before looking at Kyle. She couldn't even bring herself to shake her head _yes_ or _no,_ swallowing before quickly hurrying on, leaving Kyle to stand in the doorway to the classroom going "... what was _that_ about?" Before moving on.

 _What do I do? Do I undo it and just leave the class before she can talk to me? Augh, but then I'm disobeying a teacher, she could probably get me sent to detention and make it seem like I was being an utter **menace!** She already admitted she was willing to manipulate grades- she could tell my parents I was failing and get me into trouble at home. Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

The feeling of being _cornered_ made Dee slip into a nearly blind _panic._ She wasn't sure if she could focus enough for time travel right now. While _yes,_ she was supposed to head on to her next class for the day, she instead dashed to the boy's bathroom.

 _Why me? Why did she pick **me?**_

The restroom was deserted- _perfect._ She was able to dart into a stall and lock it, providing some faint sense of security for a moment.

Why the hell was she so _afraid?_ What made that woman so _dangerous?_ So... so _predatory?_ When Ms. Lehman had been right in front of her, Dee felt as if she had no choice but to march to her tune. Even now, she knew full well she had not escaped; she'd be back in that classroom the next day, and no doubt she'd expect an _answer._

However, given a moment to reflect? She had to ask herself that question again. _Why the hell was she so afraid?_ She went over it again in her head, the words that were said, not just the postures and the expressions. Ms. Lehman had been a scary presence, _intimidating_ since the very start, but had there actually been anything _wrong_ with what she'd been offering?

… was Dee freaking out for no reason? An adult had just offered to mentor her, teach her things that might be legitimately useful in her near future instead of all the rote memorization that school put everyone through. Was she over-reacting? Really, if she were to say _tell someone_ about what had just happened, would they judge Ms. Lehman as guilty of anything besides reaching out to one of her students? Dee had already been mad walking into the situation, it might have colored her perceptions, her reactions.

Some of the things she _offered_ were also quite tempting. Getting rid of Cartman as a lab partner was not a bad plan if she ever heard one. Butters was in that class- he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box but he was kind and considerate the majority of the time. Ah, but who had he been sitting next to? She didn't remember. She'd have to make sure it wasn't anyone she liked; she wouldn't wish Cartman on anyone who didn't _deserve_ him in some capacity.

 _Give it a chance._ She told herself as her heart rate came down. _Just because she's scary doesn't mean she's evil, right?_

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Oh Dee, your poor naive little lady.

 _I GET TO MEET MY NEW BABY NIECE TONIGHT!_ I am quite excited. I hope everyone is still enjoying the story. When I get closer to the end of this one, I will be taking genre suggestions. Once again, I have no idea how to file this thing. XD

- _Buttlord_


	3. A Breakdown In Communications

**:: I Need an Adult – A Breakdown In Communications::**

"Hey, have any of you guys seen Dee today?"

The boy's locker room was a hive of activity as everyone changed from their chosen outfits of the day into their gym clothes. There were no uniforms, but the school did have basic guidelines for what was to be used as gym attire, and awarded points for compliance. The ideal was athletic shorts and a T-shirt, though sweats were considered acceptable. This question was asked by Kyle to Stan and Kenny as he was pulling off the shirt he'd worn to school today, reaching to replace it with the white T he'd selected for gym usage.

"Huh? No, none of us have second hour with him. Why?" Stan answered curiously, having started with his pants and already one leg into his shorts.

"I bumped into him on my way into science class. _Literally,_ I mean; we crashed into each other because he was moving so fast. He looked freaked out."

" _Freaked out? That's weird."_ Kenny intoned through a scarf he'd gotten away with wearing. Winter coats, gloves, and hats might have been against the middle school's dress code, but scarves were not _specifically_ forbidden, so he got away with wearing a muffler around his face.

"Probably because the bitchy science teacher chewed him out for being a fucking _dick."_

Eyes turned at Cartman arrived, coming in with the last trickle of kids and fiddling with the rotary lock on his assigned locker.

"What are you talking about?" Kyle quested as he pulled his T over his head, sitting on one of the benches between the rows of lockers to get his shoes off in order to swap his pants for shorts. "You're the one who was trying to fucking _cheat_ this morning."

" _IT'S NOT CHEATING, KEYL. I PAID FOR A SERVICE!"_ Cartman snapped, throwing his locker open hard so its handle collided with the next locker over and produced a hallow _bang!,_ making a few people look before realizing it was just _Cartman being Cartman._ "And Douchebag got their paper back from the teacher, an' it had big red letters on it; _YOU'RE A MASSIVE DICK, SEE ME AFTER CLASS'."_ Cartman turned out towards the others, swapping into his high imitation of a more feminine voice while waving his hands in front of himself as he did his exaggerated impression of Ms. Lehman. "And then he tried to steal my _fucking_ paper, and I was about to lay a fucking _beat-down_ on that stupid piece of shit when he got called up to the front."

" _Right."_ Stan sounded unconvinced, and Kyle was right there with him. "Why the hell would he want your paper after they'd already been handed back? Stop making stuff up, Cartman."

" _I'm not making it up!"_ Cartman had made no progress on changing, the contents of his open locker ignored in lieu of arguing. "Douchebag saw _I_ got a perfect score and tried to steal my shit!"

" _You_ didn't get a perfect score!" Kyle raised his voice. " _Kenny did!"_

" _Yeah!"_ Kenny agreed behind his muffler.

" _Kenny_ didn't have the fucking _grace_ to show some fucking _charity-_ which is fucking _hilarious_ if you ask me. Hey- hey _Kenny-_ how do you expect people to donate stuff to poor people like you, when _you_ won't give anything away for free? Eh? You're a fucking _hypocrite,_ y'know? I, I mean _really,_ how can you expect people to donate _clothes_ and _food,_ and you cant even donate a couple _answers_ to a friend? You fucking poor dumbasses just _take_ and _take_ and you never fucking _give."_

"I can't listen to this." Stan groused, having finished changing by now and securing his general clothes in his locker. "I'll see you guys out there."

" _Right behind you."_ Kenny agreed, his own locker banging shut as he followed Stan, dressed in a ratty pair of sweatpants and a shirt that, in a past life, _might_ have been white? Maybe? Now it was quite gray and had a number of stains. Both were likely hand-me-downs. With his dark orange scarf wound about his face, he was fully dressed and ready to get away form Cartman's shit.

"Where the fuck _is_ Douchebag anyway?" Cartman wondered.

"Probably changing in the bathroom stalls because he doesn't wanna deal with _you,_ fatass." Kyle suggested, having gotten his shorts on by now and tying his gym shoes before shoving the rest of his stuff into his locker and swinging it closed. "I _swear,_ you get worse every day."

The warning bell rang- two minutes until third hour began.

" _SHIT!"_ Cartman swore, turning back to hurriedly get changed as the last of his usual group left him in the locker bay.

Unbeknownst to the others, Kenny had slipped off to the side when he'd been following Stan. It hadn't been hard; Stan was entirely _done_ with Cartman's shit and wasn't taking the time to look back. In the delay between his and Kyle's departure, he had been able to step aside into the area with the showers and bathroom stalls, spying a familiar pair of shoes in the only locked stall and remaining there as the other boys drained out of the locker room. It was still early in the year; teachers weren't getting on anyone's case for taking extra time in the locker rooms just yet... and if he did get in trouble for missing part of gym, it would probably just be a warning.

Even if lagging behind would have begotten some actual punishment, he still would have done it. He had a _feeling_ about this, and it wasn't a good one. A tugging in his gut told him that his _partner was in trouble._

It took time for the room to empty completely, Cartman being the last one out and grumbling about how Kyle had distracted him on purpose to make him late. The door shut behind him just as the bell for the beginning of third hour rang.

" _So what happened?"_

The fact that Dee had not already emerged from the bathroom stall worried him. Usually Dee would just _freeze time_ after they were done changing to stash their day stuff in their locker without being seen, and then slip into the gym. It was pretty _normal_ to hear a guy rip ass over the toilet, so it didn't attract any attention. It let her keep up the farce that she was a boy, because no one got to see the fact that part of their gym attire was a _binder_ to make her look just as flat as the rest of the boys once she divested of her heavy blue hoodie and was left in just her black T-shirt.

Minus Cartman, of course. That kid was going to need a bra soon if he didn't loose some weight.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Dee's answer was reluctant, as was the sound of the bathroom stall unlocking. Still, she trusted that Kenny would only engage her in conversation if they were alone, and she still had to stuff her regular clothes in her locker before heading into the gym. Slowly, the door to the bathroom stall swung open, and she emerged with her things in her arms.

Kyle was right, Dee _did_ look freaked. Even now, quite a bit after the fact, something was _off._ Maybe he was more keyed into it, what with how long they'd been working together as Mysterion and Buttlord- the tight flat line that her lips made, the somewhat defensive knitting of her brow; something was _wrong,_ and she was wrestling with it inside her head.

Still, she said she didn't want to talk about it... so he'd guess instead.

" _Did Ms. Lehman chew you out?"_

Her lips tightened further, and formed into a frown. Her answer to him was to push past him and return to the locker bays, shoving her things into her own locker and turning as if she meant to escape this conversation by stomping into the gym as fast and as huffily as possible.

He got into her path, stepping out of the bathroom area and into the narrow S-bend hallway that led to the gym itself. Putting his arms out, he found himself going from _worried_ to _annoyed-_ even before she started talking to him, she wasn't like this. She'd give him looks that could be described as _deadpan,_ even _sarcastic_ when there was something she didn't want to share. But this?

 _She was running away. That wasn't like her._

Forced to confront him, the look she _did_ finally give him was _vicious._ He could feel it in her gaze; she was _angry..._ and also... _afraid?_

"This isn't your _business,_ Kenny." She finally said. "I'm taking care of it."

" _It's my business if you're in trouble. It's my business if **anyone** is in trouble. Since when do you not fucking trust me?" _

She was thinking about hitting him. He could see it, the consideration that if she froze time and ducked under his arm, she could punch him in the back of the head and get past him while he was dazed. He knew if that was what she decided to do, there was _nothing_ he could do about it... but he wouldn't back down. They were _partners._ An important part of that was that neither of them got to steamroll the other. Much like she often gave _him_ looks that _said_ things, he was giving _her_ one of his own.

 _I'm just as stubborn as you. I just want you to **talk** to me, and I'm not moving until you do. _

_Tension_ gathered as a force of will played out over a prolonged staring contest. Neither blinked. Kenny _refused_ to let this go; Dee was a creature of habit and pattern. Disruptions to how she did things were signs of serious distress. The fact that something messed with her enough for her to just _crash into_ somebody in the hall went against her highly aloof image. It was pure instinct that told him he _needed to know what was wrong._

 _Let me **help** you, Dee. Let me **listen** to you, at the very least. _

Slowly, _slowly..._ the violence left her eyes. An audible sigh left her, and her posture crumbled into a slump.

Relief flooded him. He'd been genuinely worried she might choose escape, even if it meant whacking him in the back of the head.

"She didn't chew me out... she, uh... offered to mentor me?"

 _Huh? Then why are you so freaked out?_ The answer didn't add up, but at least she was saying _something."Mentor you?"_ He quested through his scarf, ever the muffled speaker and yet somehow the one being the most clear in this exchange.

"Yeah. She thinks I could learn a lot from her, so she offered to mentor me, but she's _really intimidating,_ so it's messed with me a bit."

Even as she told him that was all, her face contested the statement. _She was lying-_ but she didn't just want _him_ to believe what she was saying- _she wanted to believe it herself._

He didn't like it, but Kenny got the feeling he wasn't going to get anything else out of her right now. Slowly, he removed himself from her path, motioning with his head that they should move on. They were several minutes late by now, after all. As he stepped aside, she was visibly relieved, and nodded in agreement before walking past him to lead the way to the door.

Kyle was right; something was wrong with their friend... and Kenny was going to find out what the _fuck_ was going on whether Dee liked it or not.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Slightly short chapter, but still an important one! I would like to thank everybody for the absolutely _lovely_ feedback and words of encouragement, and I'm glad so many of you are interested enough to keep reading this little series of mine despite this installment not being quite as _lighthearted_ as hoped. What can I say? I tend towards more serious plots, _but!_ This story is gonna be shorter than the last one, and the next one _is_ going to be of _much_ lighter subject matter.

I mean, really, how horrific can I get when writing about a singing contest?

… bad question, never mind.

 _NOW THAT I'VE MENTIONED THAT, THOUGH!_ I do need lyric suggestions for how Cartman would fuck up the national anthem. If y'all have any ideas, they would be appreciated and would speed along the writing of that part of the next story when I get there.

 _-Buttlord_


	4. Self Examination

**:: I Need an Adult – Self Examination::**

Dee's days tended to follow a _pattern-_ more strictly during the school year. She was up early, often first to the bus stop, attempted to get through her school day without major incident, went home to undertake her responsibilities as student and do her homework as efficiently as possible, and then she was back outside to meet up with _whoever_ happened to be free that day to kill time until she needed to be home for dinner. Minor deviations occurred; once or twice she'd ended up eating over at Stan or Kyle's house because they were just _too_ into a show or game to wanna stop, and a few times she had one or all of the guys over for the company while getting coursework done right after school.

Major deviations occurred, too. Whenever South Park went to shit, and man oh man did _that_ happen more often than random chance would dictate, the whole damn thing went out the window. Thankfully, today was not one of _those_ days where some force or another was busting up the town with abandon... which made it all the stranger when she had her homework done within an hour of getting home, and didn't immediately suit up to go back outside. She knew it was her usual... but she didn't _want_ to.

The guys had been giving her looks all day- well, Kenny, Stan and Kyle had been. Cartman was too busy gloating over his ill-gotten perfect score. She knew it would be over the next day when he got his ass handed to him on vocab terms in first hour, but that hardly bothered her. In fact, she usually would have looked _forward_ to him eating his words after an extended period of his self-satisfied teasing... but the idea of the next day at school was regarded with a growing sense of dread. Likewise, going out to see her usual group of friends didn't appeal to her. They'd just keep giving her those _looks_ that silently wondered _'what's wrong with you?'._

 _What **is** wrong with me? _She wondered unto herself, her book bag packed up and ready for the next day as she instead had a seat in front of her computer. She had a pro-vaccination post to make for the day; might as well get that done. Ah, and there was an e-mail in her inbox from Dr. Kartwright, apprising her of her progress with the federal government. Sounded like things were going somewhat well, though there was a _compromise_ on the table that basically offered to leave Dee's family in peace if she agreed to be on hot-standby as a sort of _consultant;_ that the feds could come to her and _ask_ her to do things for them... without any hint as to what they'd do if she said _no._ She didn't like it, but it was better than all the kidnapping attempts. Her response to that message was short, sweet, and to the point; _I'll think about it. Check back next week, busy right now._

 _Busy._ She scoffed. _Busy doing nothing. Busy sitting in my room, trying to kill the boredom._

 _Busy **hiding.**_

That last thought made her shake her head with violence. She _hated_ that thought, and yet- it was _true,_ wasn't it? Wasn't that _exactly_ what she was doing? And for why? Because she _wasn't sure_ what to make of Lehman's offer? She'd gone over the conversation a thousand times in her head, and even as she circled around and around what was obviously a _threat,_ she couldn't identify a real reason to refuse. The more she thought about it, the more it sounded like a teacher wanted to give her extreme preferential treatment.

She supposed it was a lot like that proposed deal with the government, though- she had no idea what was going to be _expected_ of her in return, and much like she didn't like _that_ deal, she didn't like _this_ one, either.

 _Could just post a photo of her with a groundless accusation and be done with it... but that sounds like something Cartman would do. Acting without proof... not very **heroic.**_ She scoffed softly at that thought. Was that what was holding her back? Was she worried about tarnishing herself in Kenny's eyes by not upholding a full on _lawful good_ ideal? He was the one ready to trap her in a locker room just to get information out of her, today.

 _Whatever._

Her e-mail client had another new message when she returned to her main inbox. She didn't recognize the e-mail at first, but the domain told her it was from the school district. Did they have permission to e-mail her, as a student? She was _almost_ certain there were guidelines against that unless she'd given her consent to be contacted. If not, there should have been-

 _Wait a moment, abigaillehman at southparkschools dot com?_ Dee squinted at the message that had been sent to her only seconds ago. Abigail Lehman- as in Ms. Lehman?

A flush of hot adrenaline went down her neck and shoulders, as if someone had just dumped boiling water down the back of her shirt. Couldn't the woman wait until she got to school the next day for an answer?!

 _This_ was why this felt all wrong; the aggression, the _predatory_ manner in which Lehman conducted herself. Dee felt that irrational fear bubbling up in her again, and part of her just wanted to _delete_ the e-mail.

In rebellion, she clicked it anyway. Might as well see what the woman wanted; maybe it would be the proof she needed to decide whether she was on the shit list or not.

The message inside the e-mail was short and to the point, with an attached PDF.

 _Dee, the following is the seating chart for your class. Re-arrange it as you please._

It was both a gift and a demand for an answer; if Dee accepted it and re-arranged it as offered, it would be tacit consent to everything else the woman had in mind. If she didn't... did she even bother showing up to school tomorrow?

 _This is stupid. I don't take ultimatums, I give them. I have **fucking super powers** for crying out loud. Fuck you, you impatient bitch- you just pushed this kid a step too fucking far. _

* * *

Abigail Lehman lived in a second floor apartment in downtown South Park with west-facing windows; one of which that opened onto a wrought iron fire escape. There were no lights on that side of the building, just a layer of early snow that had been disturbed on multiple landings by tenants slipping out to have a smoke rather than leaving their 'smoke-free' apartments by more conventional means to feed their habits. While there were no lights on the _outside_ of the old brownstone, there were lights shining from inside some of the individual units- Lehman's included.

It had taken Mysterion less than an hour of observation to identify the best way up without being seen. From a rooftop vantage point next door he could clearly see which landings saw the most traffic, evidenced by footprints in that fresh snow. _Usually_ this would be the part that he asked Call Girl to identify which apartments were occupied via some of her tech wizardry _[Witchery? Was that term gendered? Whatever.],_ but he was alone on this one. No Bluetooth earpiece under his hood, no partner at his side. For the first time in what felt like _forever..._ he was on his own.

"... _Mysterion?"_

A voice behind him was unexpected, but he didn't start. He turned his head calmly, retaining his calculated persona... _right_ up until he saw who had joined him on the roof.

The figure was dressed mostly in black, with a long hooded coat, mask, and boots- all black. The lower edge of the mask and the hem of the coat stuck out with a dazzling shade of electric blue, whilst the upper edge of the mask and gloves on their hands a matched one another in a shade of dark purple. Nose and mouth were visible, exposing the lips and cheeks of a Caucasian kid to the brisk cold of the evening while all other identifying features were hidden.

"Buttlord." Mysterion greeted with a measure of surprise as the rest of his body jerked into an about-face, in part because it had been a _long ass time_ since he'd seen his partner in full costume. The majority of their operations together were luring out the government agents that wanted her family, most often using _them_ as bait... which meant they had to be identifiable not as Buttlord, but as Dee. There had actually been a point a while ago when he had offered to keep their costume where he kept his, making his room at home their sort of defacto base of operations. It hadn't been until later that he realized why Buttlord had probably refused that offer; the idea of changing clothes in his closet every time they got together for patrol had likely not appealed to them when he'd still been under the impression that Buttlord was a boy. The risk of discovery would have been too high for her. Finding out that the opposite was actually quite true had left him with several tiny revelations, scattered throughout the weeks since learning the truth from her.

They shared a stare, much the same stare that Kenny and Dee had shared earlier that day during gym class. The same _tension_ was produced in the silence as a sharp wind cut between them, making his cape flap against his back, and blowing the long tail of her coat out behind her legs.

Finally, she smiled at him.

"Should have figured as much- you couldn't let it be."

"You're not pissed?" He quested, cocking his head as she approached the edge of the roof to stand with him. He'd half-expected her to insist he _leave,_ not that he would.

"If I asked you that, what would you answer?" She returned his inquiry rather pointedly; and he supposed she was right. They were _both_ a bit mad right now, and those feelings didn't just _go away_ because they'd come to the same solution... but they could have it out later.

"Fair." He agreed in the gruff tone he kept for Mysterion, giving a nod and turning back towards the apartment complex he'd been scoping out. "What made you come out?"

"Nothing gets solved by hiding." She answered him. "Then I realized she _wanted_ me to hide. She _wanted_ me to be afraid to tell anyone, to act, to _think._ Excited with the possibilities, intoxicated with the short-term gain in power... and that's probably worked with her previous targets, because they didn't know what power _meant..._ they didn't know it comes at a price, no matter what. By the time they did, I'm betting it was already too late."

He couldn't help giving her a sidelong glance. Not even a month ago he had never heard her speak a single word, and now here she was getting outright _profound_ on him. He didn't know if she looked back at him; he was quick to return his eyes forward and focus on the window of their target. "She's in there, I'm waiting for her to go to bed. Then we can break in and search the place... though, I was only looking for proof to convince _you_ to let me help you."

"We're still looking for proof, Mysterion. I need proof that she's doing something _wrong._ I want to know what she's doing, I want to know how long she's been doing it, and then you and I are going to come up with the perfect scheme to _punish her."_

Buttlord's tone had turned dark. _Bloodthirsty,_ even.

"The police can punish her if she's done something illegal." He pointed out.

"She already has, _blackmail-_ she threatened me with expulsion if I didn't accept her offer to mentor me. The fact that I'm a minor and her student takes that into the realm of unethical behaviors and harassment."

He blinked; he hadn't heard that part earlier today. Of course, she hadn't wanted to tell him anything. She'd still been confused and scared, unwilling to act because she had not yet decided that taking action was the right thing to do- briefly pinned by a psychological trap laid by a predatory adult. "Then we don't need to do this." He surmised. "You can just steal her Facebook picture and post a tell-all, _done._ She'll be in police custody by morning."

" _That's not good enough."_

A snarl, though clenched teeth.

"... she made me _afraid,_ Mysterion." She added after a brief moment to regain her composure. "Do you know how hard that is to do? The kind of _shit_ I've faced down without so much as a _whimper?_ If she _scared_ me, imagine how she's made her other victims feel- victims who have never come forward. She told me, _every year she picks a boy to mentor._ She's been working for this school district for _more than twenty years._ Depending on when she started, some of the boys she's chosen are fucking _adults_ who never escaped the fear enough to come forward and _say something._ I want to know what she did to them, and then I want to _destroy_ her."

He had to admit, it was hard to argue with that. Harder when he looked at her and saw the _face_ she was making; the way she glared down at the still-lit window on the second floor. "Sounds like you already have a plan." He mused aloud; he was used to Buttlord being the utter _hothead_ between them, with him making most of the calculating plans and her carrying them out with, if not _precision,_ at least _gusto._ "If you get too deep into this, I'm going to tip off the police." An addition, warning her.

"That's fair." She agreed, just in time for the light to go out. It was just about _showtime-_ though patience was key.

" _So..._ what _is_ the plan?" He prodded.

She didn't answer him right away. At least, not verbally.

Silently, her anger that had stemmed from the fear and disempowerment morphed into a _smile._

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner:: _

_Eep,_ it's another short chapter, but I spent entirely too many hours fiddling with ending and the whole point of this project is to _not stress out about shit._ This is my _just for funsies_ corner, not my _it must be absolutely perfect_ corner.

For those reminding me that Dee has faced down pedophiles before, _she knew they were pedophiles walking in._ They tried to touch her, said _clearly_ sexual things, had sex toys, ect. The reason Ms. Lehman was able to frighten her was because of the _uncertainty._ We, the readers, know she's a pedo because I literally put it in the story description. Predators who attacked The New Kid in the games were made intensely obvious in their purpose, and thus were loud and clear threats to be dealt with. Dee's fear came from the same place that almost all victims' fear comes from in these sorts of situations- the confusion associated with a person who is supposed to be _trusted_ and _safe_ taking unexpected actions and abusing their position of authority, as well as the psychological space that comes with that authority. I _thought_ I had put that into the chapter itself with Dee's inner monologue, but with the number of people who felt it was too over the top I felt it was worth explaining my thought process down here. I guess I missed a teensy bit. X.x

Speaking as someone who suffered these feelings at the hands of a trusted neighbor, these were the _exact_ feelings I wanted to incite. And, much like in this chapter, once I had calmed down enough to _identify_ what the threat was, I took action. Granted, in my case that action was locking all my doors and sitting at my kitchen table with a loaded gun until an adult came home to protect me. In Dee's case... well, she's going to go about things a _bit_ differently.

As always, thanks for reading, and thank you all for your feedback.

- _Buttlord_


	5. The Plan

**:: I Need an Adult – The Plan::**

Dee had not truly been prepared to what she and Kenny would see inside Ms. Lehman's apartment, once the woman was soundly asleep.

Now that they had arrived as a partnered pair, as Buttlord and Mysterion, she doubted there was any way to _actually_ bungle this. If seen, she could undo it. If they broke something, she could undo it... and yet, anxiety reached a fever pitch once they were past the window from the fire escape. At first, all seemed to be well; the window let out into a decently spacious living room with a TV, small couch, and shelves packed in equal measure with books and crystalline geodes of every size and color. There were photos on the walls, too; framed pictures of Ms. Lehman with... well, a bunch of different people. Each picture had her in it, but her partner was always different. The one thing they all had in common?

They were all young men.

Beyond that, a little kitchen, and a hallway that led further in. The kitchen lacked any notable features, but the hallway? Again, more photos, more young men posing with a teacher- were they all wearing graduation robes? _God fucking a Christmas elf, they were._ As sweet as these pictures looked, as much as it just looked like a teacher taking a real interest in her students and joining them on graduation day, it struck Dee more as a serial killer displaying trophies of their conquest. _Look, here is every boy who danced to my tune, on the day he ventured out into the world to make his own... but he remembers who he owes for all his success._ Each picture was a claw, a latch of control on a man who was now out in the world, living his life... but still _leashed_ to someone who took him by the shoulder in middle school and told him he could get an edge in life if he just _did exactly what she said._

She had to stop looking, but Mysterion was taking pictures of the pictures with his phone. When she looked back in reaction to the flash going off, he answered her questioning look in a stage whisper.

"Call Girl might be able to identify these guys; finding and talking to them might be a _goldmine_ of information."

 _Goddamnit_ she loved having him around; he thought of things she didn't. She was on a single track, looking for something that _screamed_ wrongdoing, and he was already hunting up additional leads. _Best. Partner. Ever. Remind me to spend extra on your Christmas gift this year, Kenny._

Off of the hallway, she'd found a number of doors. It was anyone's guess which one was a bedroom, a side room, a bathroom, or an office- all she could do was pick the nearest one and try the knob. With one hand on the door itself, holding it steady in the frame, the other turned the knob in pure silence and _eased_ it open on hinges that creaked softly and made her core tighten in yet another thrill of anxious energy.

The room she'd opened appeared to be an office. Mysterion followed her in as she carefully stepped up to the desk within; a large thing that took up an entire wall and curved into a semi-circle for the chair to sit. Conversely to the size of the desk, the size of the computer monitor was rather modest; the rest of the surface was overflowing with books. Against the opposite wall was a hefty metal filing cabinet; the sort that had locks on the drawers.

Mysterion moved past her to get a better look at the desk, scanning the book titles and some loose pages scattered here and there. "Looks like this is where she puts together coursework. Quizzes, assignments, answer keys... most of these books are old text books; teacher stuff."

That led them back towards the filing drawers, which Buttlord attempted despite the shining locks on them. Sure enough, they didn't budge. They would have to find a key before they'd discover the contents.

Mysterion stepped up, flashing a mischievous smile to his partner and producing a bobby pin from a pocket.

… _note to self, invest in bio-metric protection if I want to keep Kenny out of my shit. Crafty fucker._

About thirty seconds later, the first and highest drawer on the cabinet was open, sliding on greased tracks that only _groaned_ with the weight of their contents. As she stepped up to begin thumbing through, he continued on to work on the next lock down, smartly ducked below the drawer to keep his head out of accidental whacking range if she suddenly decided to close it.

Within the drawer were files designed to stay upright within drawers, some with plastic tabs attached for organization. Dee realized after a second, these tabs had _names_ on them; _Bulgogi, John_ and _Dowerman, Matthew. Fletcher, Elliot_ and _Grayson, Nathan._ There was a lot of space, a lot of files and papers between each name, each one given plenty of room as if there was full intent for _expansion_ in the future.

A mixture of morbid curiosity drove her hands to begin flipping through the first set of files, ticking through with fingers that may have trembled for fear of what was about to be discovered.

The first file opened, and Dee saw... _bank records?_

She reached down, tapping Mysterion's shoulder to get him to come up, indicating what she'd found for his inspection. He was less involved than her, more ready to process something new out of left field. She could barely bring herself to _read_ anything she was so wound up and _angry._ She could trust him to do this shit with a level head and report to her his findings.

" _Good fucking God, she's extorting them."_ Was his murmur after a few seconds. "Proof of assets, proof of income- and here's her percentage, circled at the bottom. These are yearly statements, this guy has been paying her for as long as he's been _working- oh, jeez... and there's why."_

It was the last file in Mr. Bulgogi's section, the same unassuming beige color as all the rest, but containing a large glossy _photo_ instead of paperwork.

Dee could only glance at it. It wasn't something she wanted to look at for more than a second, lest it sear itself into her brain. She saw it long enough to know it was the _hated_ teacher and the boy in question when he'd been a minor, being _entirely_ too naked with one another.

Suddenly, all the fear, all the gut feelings, all the _predatory behavior_ snapped into place and made sense. What she'd known at a subconscious level, sounding off alarm bells in her ears became a fact that sat heavy in the bottom of her stomach that could no longer be avoided or ignored.

Kenny had more of a stomach for it at that second; he flashed another picture with his phone, collecting evidence.

" _Fucking disgusting."_ Was his assessment as he did so.

* * *

" _Will Wendy Testaburger please report to the main office? Wendy Testaburger, please report to the main office, thank you."_

First thing in the morning, before even first hour had began, Wendy found herself being called out of homeroom to the main office for reasons unknown. Looking up to the teacher leading her grouping of kids in the morning news and notifying them of coming events, all they could do was trade shrugs before she was on her feet with her things and walking out to do as she was told. She could keep calm about it; she couldn't think of anything she'd done _wrong_ in recent memory that would get her in trouble, so she felt no particular reason to panic.

Arrival at the main office saw her ushered into one of the side rooms where one of the school councilors, _Ms. Misty_ if Wendy remembered from orientation, was sitting behind a desk with two chairs in front of it. One of these chairs was already occupied... by _Eric Cartman._

 _Now_ was when a little adrenaline hopped through her system. Once Cartman was involved in a situation, all bets were off. That said, he didn't seem _happy_ to be here. In fact, he looked particularly _sulky,_ but that was something that could either be a relief or a ticking time bomb, depending on whether or not the fat lard would take action against whatever had made him upset.

"Ms. Testaburger, please, have a seat." Ms. Misty invited with a sweet voice; she was a small and short woman who spoke gently, gesturing to the open seat with all the grace of a ballerina. "Sorry to pull you out of class, but there's been a little change-up in your schedule."

"Change-up?" Wendy questioned, glancing at Cartman. She and _that_ particular homophobic, racist, sexist, _bigoted asshat_ shared the majority of their classes already. She _really_ hoped this wasn't one of those things where the teachers had decided they were good for each other and were making her his peer councilor. She had _no_ intention of taking on that kind of responsibility over an inevitable train-wreck.

"Yes, you see, Mr. Cartman here had a bit of a _dispute_ with a fellow student in his first hour class, science, and I'm afraid it's really rather spun out of control. The pair can't stand to be in the same room with each other, so we're going to move him to a different hour for science. Of course, with class sizes these days that means we needed to swap him with a fellow student to keep everything balanced, and _you_ were selected as the best candidate to swap with him. As of today, Ms. Testaburger, you'll be having your science class first hour, and your math class at forth hour- allowing Mr. Cartman here to pull the same swap in the opposite direction without upsetting the balance on either side. Do you understand?"

" _I understand that this is some political **bullshit**." _Cartman muttered, his arms crossed and hands tightly tucked beneath his pits.

"What was that, Mr. Cartman?" Ms. Misty asked sweetly.

" _I SAID DOUCHEBAG IS A STUPID TEACHER'S PET!"_

"Dee?" Wendy questioned.

"Yeah, he nearly _hit_ me yesterday and now all of the sudden _I'm_ being moved for _behavior problems."_ His hands were released from his underarms to make air quotes. "That kid is such a _suck up!"_

"This idea was put forward by Ms. Lehman, that is true, but she genuinely feels that it will be to the betterment of _both_ your educations for you to swap classes, Mr. Cartman." Ms. Misty explained patiently. "Ms. Testaburger, I do need your confirmation that you _understand_ what I've told you before you can return to class."

"Understand? Don't you need my _agreement_ to change my class schedule? I mean, not that I'm _arguing."_ The idea of swapping out to have first hour with Dee didn't bother her one bit; particularly if that got her friend _out_ of dealing with Cartman first thing in the morning every single school day.

"No, actually. The school can do as they please with student schedules. All I require is that you say you _understand._ Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand." Wendy agreed quickly.

" _WELL I DON'T!"_ Cartman roared, slamming his hands on the arms of his chair.

Ms. Misty let out a slight sigh. "And that, Mr. Cartman, is why you're going to stay in this office until you do. Thank you Ms. Testaburger, you may go."

* * *

Setting her plan into motion had required Dee to take certain risks- the first of which was taking advantage of Ms. Lehman's offer to edit the class. Of course, the thing she asked of her teacher was not as simple as shuffling the kids already in her first hour into new seats, as tempted as she'd been to simply move Cartman to the front row and take on Butters as her new lab partner when the possible perk had first been made available to her. No, in the time since she'd been thinking, _calculating,_ searching for the way she could take the _gifts_ that Ms. Lehman was prepared to shower upon her head... and use them _against_ the pedophile who stood at the front of her class, oblivious to the plot that was going to _bring her down._

So she pushed her luck, right out of the gate, and asked for a student who _wasn't_ in her class to be her lab partner. She asked to have Cartman _removed,_ and have someone much smarter and much more _useful_ brought in. And, as her first stroke of luck since this mess began- Ms. Lehman _agreed._

Now, only moments into first hour, Wendy found her way into the science room.

"Ah, Wendy!" Ms. Lehman greeted from the front as a great many eyes turned to address the early interruption. "Please, come in, have a seat next to Dee; you'll be replacing his previous lab partner."

Dee was among the onlookers, having turned in her chair to watch as Wendy looked around to see who else was in the class before proceeding to her seat. Her pack was hung on the back of her chair; like Dee, it appeared she liked to carry all of her things to each class instead of stopping back at her locker during each passing time. Once seated, Ms. Lehman resumed the lecture on igneous rocks and how they were formed, and Dee flashed a _smile_ at Wendy. Her friend gave it right back to her before reaching into her pack to retrieve a notebook; everyone else in the class was already taking notes... or appeared to be doing so while doodling, depending the student.

Before Wendy even had her notebook on the table, however, Dee had pushed hers to the middle of the table in a silent invitation for her to look at what was written there.

 _'I need your help. I need you to pretend I'm your boyfriend.'_

Dee could tell the message _confused_ Wendy- after all, she was one of the limited few who knew that Dee was not, in fact, a boy. They had traded friendship bracelets for crying out loud- and here Dee was asking Wendy to pose as her partner and reinforce the idea that she was _male_ to the people around her. Still, even as Wendy was _squinting_ at the untidy message, she was uncapping her pen to write a response.

 _'I can do that, but why? How long?'_

 _Good old Wendy, always there for me during crunch time. You and Kenny are getting **so** spoiled this Christmas. _Dee felt a little relief; there had been some irrational anxiety that Wendy might say _no_ for some reason, standing on principals of honesty or fearing the retribution of the rumor mill. The again, Wendy knew that she wouldn't ask for this unless she had a damn good reason.

 _'Ms. Lehman is a pedo. I need help bringing her down. She's targeted me, which means she's giving me special treatment- like getting rid of Cartman and bringing you into the class at my request. I want to humiliate and reveal her in front of everyone. I have a plan, but I can't do it alone.'_

Dee watched Wendy's face as she read the latest note; as her eyes widened and she glanced up to the front at the teacher before looking down again to finish processing the message left on the notebook... though Dee also realized that their behavior had not gone _unnoticed_ by Ms. Lehman. The teacher had glanced back during lecturing and writing on the whiteboard and looked rather _directly_ at the pair of them passing a single notebook back and forth; _obvious_ note-passing behavior... and ignored it. No, more than that, she _smiled_ and continued on with her lesson.

Did she get off on this? As far as Lehman was concerned, Dee was a boy who had asked for a specific girl to be moved into the class. No doubt Lehman had already _assumed_ they were an item, or that Dee _wanted_ them to be one... and she had said something about loving to watch as her 'star student's romances blossomed' or some shit.

Either way, Wendy was looking at her now. The notebook had become unnecessary; Wendy's look said it all. _'How can I help?'_ she asked with nothing more than her eyes and the tight concerned look on her face.

In response, Dee reached into her backpack hanging off her chair and produced a stack of printed pages. It was something she had been working on the night before, staying up to an ungodly hour to finish. She was fairly certain it was only dedication to her mission that kept her awake right now, but that was stronger than even the best cup of coffee. This stack of pages was passed into Wendy's hands, beneath the table.

The cover page had two words in massive, bold type.

 **MOCK TRIAL**

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

 _HOLY HELLO_ my darlings, sorry this one took a bit to get online, I got a _tiiiiny_ bit discouraged in the middle there. A lot of you have commented that this story ended up _darker_ than the previous one... which is impressive, considering no one has to _die_ in this one. That said, you're all completely right. I tackled a hardcore subject and, instead of giving it any sort of South Park levity, went at it in my usual _serious_ style... but I didn't want this story to be utterly serious. I wanted to find the South Park style _fun_ in it, so I needed to take a couple days and have a think on how to do that.

And, I dare say I think I figured it out, and it only took _minor_ changes to the plot I already had planned. Yay!

So, I wanted to thank you all for getting me out of my comfort zone, for getting me out of the same-ol-same-ol and putting some real effort into doing something unfamiliar.

And for all of those who offered your condolences about the previous events in my life, thank you.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	6. The PC Judge

**:: I Need an Adult – The PC Judge::**

"Please, ladies, come in."

Wendy winced when, right out the gate, Dee was recognized as _female._ Then again, she supposed if _any_ adult had to know the truth, this was the one to know. He was, after all, now the man in charge of the school district itself. A man who used to be known as the PC Principal, who had been promoted to the PC Superintendent _[Or just PC Super, for short]_ just a year ago. Oddly enough, getting an appointment with the man after school had _not_ been difficult, and now she and Dee were both walking into his office at the district building to discuss their _proposal_ for an event.

"Oooh, actually-" Wendy raised her hand a little, as if she were asking for permission to speak in class when they were, in truth, standing in a green-carpeted office facing down a great meatball of a man behind a mahogany desk. "Dee still presents as male in _public,_ sir. He's not out as a girl yet, and prefers male pronouns when someone he doesn't trust might be around to notice."

The musclebound man behind the desk seemed to flinch upon that revelation, pushing up his ever-present sunglasses and addressing Dee directly. "If that is the case, please allow me to express my most sincere apologies for failing to respect your preferred pronoun. In recompense, I welcome you to take a free shot at my gut. Would you like me to stand up?"

Wendy and Dee traded glances. Dee shrugged.

"That won't be necessary." Wendy answered, the pair of them finishing their approach to the PC Super's desk and having a seat in the chairs just before it. It was, Wendy thought, surprisingly like the councilor's office she'd sat in that morning... only with higher quality materials. Leather chairs, hardwood desk, a great big picture window with a view of the mountains over the boss man's hulking shoulders. Also, instead of blank beige walls, there were framed degrees and photo-worthy memories. "We really would like to get right down to business, if that's alright."

"Nothing wrong with wanting to get right to the point." The PC Super agreed. "I'm to understand that you two would like to hold a mock trial as a major event open to the community at large, to better show your peers how a court of law actually works. I, for one, think that this is an excellent idea; it is important to know how the justice system works so when you grow older you know better how to attack injustice. My question is why you wanted to speak to _me?_ You would have only had to go to the principal of your school to get approval to use a space."

"Well, you see, we'd like you to _participate."_ Wendy answered, a great stack of papers in her hands being passed up onto the surface of his desk. "We intend to have students run the majority of the rest of the event, but we had a hard time thinking of whom we wanted to be our _judge-_ and really, who would make a better judge than the person running the school district? I personally feel it would get a great deal of the student body to take the proceedings more seriously, and take greater interest."

 _Flattery will get you everywhere and all that._ A secret thought that Wendy was certain she and Dee were having at the same time as the man they were petitioning reached out to pick up the stack of papers that Dee had worked so tirelessly on the night before. It was a detailed proposal for the whole thing; how to select the jury from the student body, what kind of venue they were after, when to hold the event, even cost-effective ways to advertise it to the town at large to get more than just students and their parents in the door. For now, however, the PC Super only stared at the cover through his sunglasses before laying the packet flat on his desk and looking at Dee and Wendy again.

"Who will be the plaintiff?" He questioned.

"Dee is the one bringing the complaint, against a teacher; Ms. Lehman. Again, we figured that would get more attention."

"And what _is_ the complaint?" He pressed. "Robbery, murder? This may be a _mock_ trial but I want to know it will be carried out in a PC fashion, I won't have you advertising a hate crime for the scandal."

"Sexual harassment, rape, and extortion. If you take a look at that packet in your hands, we even have extensive evidence dockets, all ready to go once we've picked a student to be our prosecutor. Of course, we'll also need a volunteer to work defense as well."

 _That_ got him to cock his head. Perchance he hadn't expected to hear the word _rape_ in his office today. "Does Ms. Lehman know what you'd like to charge her with in this mock trial?"

"Do suspects know when or what they're going to be charged with in a true court of law before the police apprehend them?" Wendy batted back, already prepared for this question. "We'd like this mock trial to be as realistic as possible; going as far to get the co-operation of a few police officers to 'take her into custody' before hand while the prosecution and defense prepare their cases against each other. That's another reason we need your help. We thought that could happen over the weekend, as not to interrupt classes."

Curiously, he picked the packet back up and began to leaf through it. At first it was casually, but it seemed the further he got the greater interest he took. Then, somewhere near the back, he suddenly stopped and closed the packet. Then he opened it. Then he closed it again.

"... Wendy, I understand you've some experience with Photoshop, but these evidence photos look rather convincing. As much as I salute your devotion to realism, I am uncertain someone your age should be producing such _detailed_ re-creations of illegal acts between a teacher and a student."

Wendy leaned forward. This was the _critical_ moment, and the very reason Dee had asked Wendy for help.

" _I didn't."_

There was hesitation. Slowly, very slowly, the PC Super took off his sunglasses to look at Dee, Wendy, and then down at the packet in his hands. It appeared to be dawning on him that the majority of its mass was not _created_ evidence for a mock trial, but _real documents._

"Explain."

"An anonymous person arranged for Dee to meet him at the park last night, and delivered those documents into his hands to warn him that he was Ms. Lehman's latest target. Everything in there is relating to her previous victims... but Dee was worried that if he went straight to the police, no one would believe him because of the incorrect belief of the general public that boys _can't_ be victims of sexual assault by women. _That's_ why we want to carry out this mock trial and record the whole thing, with you, the true Social Justice Warrior, as our judge. Once we've proved her guilt in a court, even a _mock_ court that takes the crime seriously, it will be that much easier to see that she is truly punished by a real court of law."

The PC Super was quiet for several seconds more. He opened the packet again, peering closely at the pictures that _no one_ wanted to see. A deep frown had carved into his face; if this was all true, there was a _hardcore_ pedophile in his district. The longer he looked, the more his brow furrowed down and skepticism melted into a boiling, burning _rage._

Then, just as it seemed the man might _explode,_ he drew in a deep inhale, held it, and let it out. His sunglasses were replaced, and he returned his attention to his students.

"I would be honored to serve as your judge."

* * *

" _Oh my god_ I can't believe that went so _well!"_

Dee would have laughed aloud in a measure of relief if she hadn't been so _dedicated_ to being mute. Thankfully, Wendy was expressing that for her, all but jumping up and down as they left the district building behind and began the walk back to the nearest bus stop to get back home.

"Do you know how _rarely_ stuff like this goes _right_ in this town? Usually whenever I try to take a stand, something _stupid_ happens- _ugh_ I can't even believe he brought up the _Photoshop_ incident." She took a breath, trying to smooth herself out and get back to business. Their work wasn't done just yet. "Okay, okay, I know what comes next; spreading the word- but _discreetly._ I can organize interviews for prosecution and defense without telling them _what_ the case is until Friday, when Ms. Lehman should be taken into custody after school. If she gets the early tip-off, she might try to _run."_

 _Which would only tip us all off to her fucking guilt. She has nothing to fear from a mock trial if she's innocent, but those documents were fucking **real,** and getting photocopies was **not** easy. Seriously, biggest work-out my ass has gotten in **weeks.**_

"Oh, wait, but that means a whole three more days where she might ask _you_ to... _do_ things for her." Wendy suddenly realized, losing a great deal of enthusiasm. "... what are you going to do? Just avoid her?"

That was the question. Dee hoped Ms. Lehman wouldn't escalate that quickly, but there was more than a chance that she _would..._ but she supposed that was just more evidence. Looking to Wendy, she shrugged. _I've weathered a lot of things, I can handle this. I know she's gonna get hers. Once the town knows what she's done, she'll be lucky to get out of the school in one piece._

"Right, right, _strong silent type over there._ You're going to break _so_ many hearts when you finally come out; you know that, right?"

" _Come out?_ Y-You mean Dee's _gay?!"_

Heads jerked- Wendy and Dee both looked back to find another kid just a few steps behind them.

" _Butters?"_ Wendy quested with surprise, glancing to Dee for guidance but getting none. Dee was just as surprised; since when was Butters so _sneaky?_ And _quiet?_ The boy with his blonde tuft of hair seemed just a shell shocked as the two of them, staring with wide eyes before suddenly putting his head down and _barreling_ past them.

" _Oh hamburgers, I gotta go!"_ He all but shouted as he sprinted away from them, leaving Wendy and Dee standing still on the sidewalk and blinking after him.

"What was _that_ about...?" Wendy wondered.

 _No fucking clue..._ Dee's lips pursed together as brows came down a touch in thought. Why would Butters be bothered by her- or, she supposed, in _his_ perception, _him being gay?_ He liked girls, it wasn't like she was even on his menu, gay or not. Did the idea of it make Butters feel threatened? Uncomfortable? He seemed just fine with Tweek and Craig, and they'd been together for _years_ now. Or maybe it was the idea of a _single_ gay guy in his midst that upset him.

Ah well, not something she intended to worry about at this specific moment.

"Now that I think about it, hasn't Butters been commenting on how _pretty_ you are since you first moved in?" Wendy mused aloud, continuing a train of thought that Dee was ready to wash her hands of. "... you think he might _like_ you?"

Dee turned a _glare_ onto Wendy. _He likes girls, he's always liked girls. He probably just notices the feminine shape of my face on a subconscious level._

"Don't give me that look- sexuality isn't a thing that's _set in stone-_ just because he perceives you as a boy doesn't mean he can't be attracted to you."

 _So what? You want me to ask him out? That's hilarious. Butters is a sweet boy, but-_

"You've _thought about it!"_ Wendy suddenly crowed, interpreting the look on Dee's face with a sudden squeal of delight. "I _knew_ it! I _knew_ you weren't as _impervious_ to feeling as you always seem! You _like_ him!"

Brows came down harder over her eyes, lips curling into something that might have _snarled_ if she cared to pass breath through it. _I don't have time for this shit Wendy, and neither do you._

" _Calm down,_ your secrets have always been safe with me." Wendy pressed a finger to her lips, assuring silence before making a small wave of her hand to encourage them to keep walking towards the bus stop. "I'm just saying, the homecoming dance _is_ coming up. You could always test the waters~" Her last suggestion took on a sing-song voice.

 _Isn't it dishonest to ask a guy out under the pretense of a different physical sex? What happens if Butters wants me to stick my non-existent dick up his ass? If he got excited about the idea he would bring his own lube and we both know it. I like the kid enough to **dislike** doing something like that to him. _

Dee's internal thoughts buzzed as her face fell dead, turning forward and continuing their walk; to the bus stop and back to town. They had shit to do, things to plan, people to interview; there wasn't _any_ time to lose... particularly on something so _trivial_.

 _You wouldn't be so resistant if it was_ _ **Kenny**_ _calling you pretty all the time._

That _particular_ thought nearly made Dee give an involuntary jerk towards smacking herself in the head. Goddammit puberty was stupid!

"Okay, okay, back to work." Wendy agreed, not noticing Dee's internal argument as she drew out her phone. "I'll get the word out on Facebook and Instagram about the mock trial- where should we hold the interviews? It doesn't need to be a big space, I'll see if Stan can get his family to let us his his garage for a couple afternoons. _And nobody tell Cartman,_ he always fucks everything up."

Dee scoffed. _No argument on that one._

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

As I _quietly_ set up a few plot points for the next story, which primarily concerns the events of the homecoming dance... Hehehehe.

You guys have no idea how much I am looking forward to the end of this story. Won't be much longer, either.

As always, I thank you all for the continued support of both myself and the story. As a general heads up, I will once again be in the process of traveling starting on _**December 4**_ _ **th**_ _ **,**_ wherein hubby an I will be flying from Minneapolis to Seattle, Seattle to Japan, then Japan to Guam. I will _probably_ get some writing time in during the flights, but I won't be able to upload shit without decent wifi. Also, it's important to remember that when we arrive on the island I will be on the other side of the international dateline, fucking up my perception of time to a certain degree as I will basically _skip_ a day in the process of travel, _and_ I will be jet-lagged to hell. All of this is to say _**the story may become mildly delayed as I get to and get settled in on the island that will be my new home for the next three years.**_ Even if it isn't, sleep deprivation and disorientation may contribute to _**plot holes and spelling errors.**_ Lemme know if I fuck something up, I will endeavor to fix as I am able.

Wish me luck my darlings,

 _-Buttlord_


	7. Escalation

**:: I Need an Adult – Escalation::**

Dee arrived at home without incident, dropping her pack by her bedroom door and shifting the necessary materials to do her homework up to her desk before flopping down into a well-loved swivel chair that squeaked in protest, reminding her she _really_ needed to spray some WD-40 on its metal workings. _Later,_ she had better things to be doing; there was a worksheet from social studies and an assigned reading from English. Once that shit was done, she fully intended to invite Kenny over to play some video games. Hell, maybe she'd invite Karen to come too; it wasn't like the latest super-violent brawler was worse than anything she'd see or hear at home, and at least here they'd get a warm meal that was more nutritionally complex than toaster pastries.

Didn't Kenny have an older brother, too? She'd met him, briefly, but he'd been an ass to her so she hadn't put real effort remembering his name... was it _Kevin?_ Yeah, that sounded about right. Still, he'd been a jerk. She got the feeling that if she invited all three McCormick siblings over, the eldest would probably break her shit in a fit of teenage _'I'm too cool for your kiddie crap, so **no one** is allowed to have fun.' _

Good bloody Christ she really hoped Kenny didn't get like that as he got older. Or _her,_ for that matter. Did assholes even realize they'd _become_ assholes? Without meaning to, she ended up going from happy thoughts pertaining to Kenny and his clan to circling back to the _horror_ that was Ms. Lehman in her mind, and wondering how someone _did what she did_ and still managed to sleep at night. How did just justify it? How did it seem _okay_ to her? Did she _grow into it,_ or had she been a predator from her youngest days?

She tried to put it out of her head, turning on her computer to put on some music while she worked. Before hopping over to YouTube to put on her favorite play list, she checked her e-mail client.

She had a number of new messages; mostly advertisements from various businesses she had given her e-mail to as part of loyalty programs. There was a fresh message from Dr. Kartwright, complaining that her bosses weren't happy, but would wait for her answer. Why were they waiting? Oh, right, Dee had asked for some time to think. Well, that was nice and silly, wasn't it? She shot off a reply, letting Kartwright know that the government could go ahead and ask for her assistance when they wanted it, but they wouldn't be able to _force_ her to do their bidding. She would chose what jobs she'd do, _period._ If they tried to apply force to her, well... there was already a pretty solid track record of what happened to government agents who had attempted to go against her rather indomitable will.

Feeling rather _pleased_ with that response, she clicked back to her main inbox... and found a fresh e-mail from Ms. Abigail Lehman. The subject line had been left blank, defaulting to a bracketed _[no subject]_ for Dee to click on. All the fear and uncertainty of the night before had become something entirely different. No, she was nearly _vengeful_ now, peering at the contents of this e-mail with the certainty that it would simply make whatever hole this teacher had already dug for herself _that much fucking worse._

Attached to the e-mail was a photo of Ms. Lehman. She was topless, with... was that whipped cream on her breasts? Quickly, Dee navigated back to her main inbox, averting her eyes from an image that was sure to haunt her nightmares for several weeks to come. What the _hell?!_ No doubt this was an attempt to get her chosen victim to start thinking of her in a sexual context. Even as Dee was picking apart the motivation behind the message, a second e-mail arrived that had 'OOPS!' as the subject line; her teacher having typed up a supposedly hasty apology and claiming that she 'meant to send that to someone else'.

Good fucking Christ, Dee had to wonder how many times this woman had _used_ that line. No doubt unaware boys, excited and confused, had told their teacher it was okay, that they'd just delete the photo and forget it, all while secretly marveling at the taboo of it. Maybe, just maybe, some of the boys she'd lured in before had thought themselves willing participants to a certain degree- but it didn't change the fact that _every single one of them had been underage._

Frankly, the whipped cream was tame compared to some of the shit that was in that big honking evidence packet they'd left with the PC Super. What they'd given him had been one copy of three; one for the judge, one for the defense, and one for the prosecution.

She forwarded both messages, the photo and the apology, to Kenny, Wendy, and the PC Super, explaining these things had just been sent to her.

 _Friday cannot come fucking fast enough, I fucking swear._

Wendy's returned e-mail contained predictable outrage; she couldn't believe the transparent ploy either. The PC Super, whose response took a few more moments than Wendy's faster-than-light reaction, contained a stoic line of 'Thanks for keeping me posted, will add to evidence folder'. Kenny appeared to _not_ respond at first, but Dee didn't find that entirely surprising. He wasn't the sort to say anything unless he had something _meaningful_ to add. With her tasks done, she clicked over to YouTube to get her music going and let herself focus on her academic obligations.

A few minutes into cross-referencing the wording of the questions on her social studies worksheet with the words written in her textbook on the subject of old kingdom Egypt, her phone let out a jangling tone that told her she had a text. The device vibrated against her belly through her blue sweater, jangling again as a second text was received. Reaching down, a _third_ message pinged away in a chain of texts before she could even look at the screen and see who was pestering her.

Ah, perchance the word _pester_ was premature.

All three were from Kenny.

[Received, 3:41] Hey.  
[Received, 3:41] Do you want me to come hang out?  
[Received, 3:41] Being alone can suck when there's something shitty breathing down your neck.

 _Hesitation;_ why did she hesitate? He was just offering to keep her company. That was normal thing for friends to do. _Totes._

[Sent, 3:43] I'm doing homework. It'll be pretty boring.

For some reason, the fact that she didn't get an answer right away made her feel anxious. She tried to ignore it, putting her phone on her desk and turning her attention back to her work; the wording of the questions on the sheet and the pages in her textbook were practically _copy-pasted;_ all she would have to do is skim this crap and then she could move on to the reading for English class, and then she could go back to her usual pattern. The _accepted_ pattern where social time came after schoolwork, where she didn't make special exceptions for anyone.

 _Maybe he lost interest._

Her phone sang its little tune, informing her otherwise.

[Received, 3:48] If you don't want me there, just say so. Don't make excuses.  
[Received, 3:49] I just figured you might not want to be alone right now.

 _Underpants Gnomes fucking a cat he's not even in the room and he's reading my goddamned mind. That's not even fair._ What could she even say to that? She felt like he had forced her into a corner where there were no pithy responses; just a simple case of _yes_ or _no._ Picking up her phone, she ended up just _staring_ at it for far longer than she wanted to. Did she get mad at him for accusing her of making excuses? _He was right,_ but that didn't mean she had to _admit it._ And what _did_ she want right now?

 _I want Friday to fucking get here and I want all of this shit to just go the fuck away. I suppose I could just fart myself into the future, but me disappearing from class would **probably** tip Ms. Lehman off that someone's on to her shit._

What if she explained that she was anxious, that nothing felt _right?_ That she still felt so _angry_ that half the world didn't seem to make sense? _Ugh, no, too fucking sappy. Only fucking_ _ **girly girls**_ _pour their fucking hearts out like that._

 _Fuck,_ was she keeping him waiting now? Making _him_ feel anxious? She needed to answer him, but she didn't know what the fucking shit to say.

 _This is so fucking dumb, I swear to God this kid is going to give me an aneurysm._

[Sent, 3:54] Do you have any idea how much I hate it when you're right all the time?  
[Sent, 3:55] Bring Karen, I'll text mom and warn her we're gonna have some extras at dinner.  
[Sent, 3:55] Don't you dare try to fucking refuse food. If you're gonna fucking walk your ass over here just to comfort me, I'm going to fucking feed you.

[Received, 3:56] Haha, deal. : P

* * *

First hour the next day saw Ms. Lehman in the first low-cut top Dee had ever seen her in since the beginning of the year. Her pattern had been turtle necks, each day, _every day,_ and yet today there was a plunging neckline that served to remind the entire class that she was _surprisingly firm_ in the upper body for a woman her age. Flats had been traded in for heels that clicked on the floor as she walked between desks, handing out a work sheet for the day while introducing the subject of the lecture; classifications of rocks. There was another transformation, too; her make-up. Natural, understated colors had been replaced with fashionable winged eyeliner, shimmering eye shadow that started nude and faded into an aesthetically pleasing pink, and lipstick of a similar pink that complemented her complexion well. If not already clued into the fact that the woman was a _fucking monster,_ Dee might have even thought she looked kinda beautiful like that.

She was certain that was the point. That this woman, so simple in her look in the days before today, was suddenly _showing off_ everything she had to offer. This was another stage of confusion, another point in the plot to seduce a student whom she had selected from the crowd by making it seem as if that student were seeing her _in a different light_ for the first time today. That all the days before she was _just a teacher,_ humble and simple- but today? Today she was a _woman,_ enticing and worth noticing.

Dee felt sick. It worked every time, she was sure.

" _Jeez, she really knows how to tart it up, doesn't she?"_ Wendy whispered to Dee.

That was one way to summarize it.

"Ms. Testaburger, is there a problem?"

 _That_ was a sudden change of course; yesterday Ms. Lehman had blithely stood by while Dee and Wendy had _obviously_ been passing notes. Today, Wendy was called out in an _instant_ with a tone that _warned_ there would be no tolerance.

 _Oh shit, I get it now. That's why she wanted to know if I had any crushes- so she could make a supposed girlfriend **jealous,** probably for leverage further down the line. It's easy to flunk a class to get out of something ugly, but if a teacher threatens to expose a boy as a cheater to his girl? He'd do just about **anything** to keep the secret. _

"No, Ms. Lehman." Wendy reported at once, facing forward. "Sorry, Ms. Lehman."

"Very good." She responded, the sound of _superiority_ impossible to miss in her tone of voice. "Now, as I was saying, all minerals can be identified by their color, luster, streak, and- _let's just get the giggling out of everyone's system right now-_ cleavage- _not the kind you're thinking of."_

 _You mean,_ _ **not the kind I have on display.**_ Even as Dee's thoughts were bitter, the majority of the class _did_ break out in immature giggles- although mostly contained.

"Oh, go on. Get it out of your system now- this is the only time I'm going to give it to you; I expect straight faces for the rest of the unit."

"Ms. Abigail Lehman?"

Eyes turned. Someone had come into the classroom while students had been partaking in their directed giggling. _Someone in uniform;_ a police man? Dee went from just turning her head to turning the majority of her body around in her chair to confirm the fact that, _yes,_ there was a police officer in the doorway into the classroom, cutting through the din of giggling children to address their teacher.

 _What the hell? This isn't suppose to happen until Friday. We weren't supposed to disrupt school!_

"I am she." Ms. Lehman confirmed, putting her hands on her hips as she cocked her head at this uniformed interruption. "How may I help you, officer?"

The officer entered into the room, followed by two more men in uniform... and the PC Super. The door closed behind him, and he stood in front of it like a bouncer with his arms crossed. The uniformed men approached the front of the room in a quick-step march, one of them unfurling a set of cuffs along the way. Ms. Lehman, first processing _shock,_ then began to back off as she glanced between the trio of men who quite effectively cut off all escape routes.

"W-What are you doing? I'm teaching a _class,_ here!"

"Not right now you're not- Abigail Lehman, you are under arrest for sexual harassment and rape of multiple minors, as well as extortion."

Cuffs clicked around one wrist of a _flabbergasted_ woman who could not believe what the hell was happening to the little world she controlled. She stared in terror as her other wrist was yanked into place with all force, hands cuffed behind her back while the surprise still held her immobile.

" _Rape?!_ You're accusing me of- for the love of, in front of my _students,_ really?!"

The shock was more than Ms. Lehman's; it belonged to the entire room. To every student, staring on in a state of surreal unreality as they watched their teacher get arrested and led out by her shoulders, one officer calmly reciting Miranda rights as she shouted out continued protest.

"This is _insane, you can't just march in here and arrest a teacher in the middle of a lesson! I haven't_ _ **done**_ _anything! LEMME GO!"_

Near the door, the struggle escalated beyond words. Ms. Lehman managed to get her feet under her and smartly brought one of her heels up into the crotch of one of the police that was escorting her out. He reacted as expected; with extreme pain and doubling-over to hold his family jewels, but the third cop was right there to secure her before she could yank away and make any sort of attempt to resist, compelling her out of a door that the PC Super was now holding open with a disturbing amount of _stoic calm._

In minutes, the event was over. Ms. Lehman was led out of the room, the cop who had been kicked in the nads had regained himself enough to follow his fellow officers out, and the only figure of authority left in the room was the PC Super.

Dee could not believe her eyes. She'd been twisting herself around, following the action with all the surprise of her peers. Wendy, too, was part of the crowd as a stunned _hush_ was all that was left while the PC Super approached the front of the room to take the place of their recently removed teacher.

Once there, he addressed the class.

"Children, what you just saw was part of the planned proceedings for a mock trial this weekend, in which you, the student body, will be asked to participate; either as the jury, prosecution, or the attending public. This arrest of your teacher was _staged_ to show you what a real arrest is like, up close, and personal. Criminals never know where, or _when_ they will be apprehended, you see. It can happen at any time, anywhere, once the police have sufficient evidence to take them into custody. The police doesn't wait for the weekend, and neither should you. _Right now,_ we are preparing our mock persecution for our mock trial, with interviews led by our own Wendy Testaburger."

At this point, a gesture was made towards Wendy. Still in a state of shock, it took her an extra moment to stand up. The sheer _force_ of the attention that was focused on her was somewhat terrifying.

"I know many of you are training in the way of the Social Justice Warrior, and I look forward to seeing your participation in this event. Please, spread the word to your friends, family and/or guardians, as _all_ of the general public will be welcome at this event. Now, for the rest of this class, I will personally be teaching you the basic vocabulary you should know for participating in a court of law. Wendy, you may sit."

Dee watched as Wendy all but _collapsed_ back into her chair. _Unexpected_ was the fucking _word_ for what just happened. And yet? Not even sat back in her chair for a _moment,_ and Dee observed the girl slipping her phone out of her pocket to text someone... _probably_ Kenny, to tell him what just happened.

 _Well, that's one fucking way to kick this shit off._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Because once a student has been directly threatened, the PCS doesn't fucking wait around for greater damage to be done. It's not PC to use kids as pedo bait.

 **ON AN AMAZING NOTE!** One of the readers of this story, **cortillaan,** made a _fan-fucking-tastic_ piece of fanart for this story in the form of a cover! Words cannot express how incredibly honored I am to have received such a gift, as well as permission to use it as the cover image of this story. I realize the cover image itself is tiny, so I highly recommend you go and find **cortillaan** over on Tumblr so you can view the piece in full size. They got Dee absolutely **perfect,** even down to the fact that she has green eyes even though I don't think I've actually mentioned that as of yet... or maybe I did and forgot XD Point is, go love on them!

Thank you all, you're the most amazing fans a fic writer could ask for.

- _Buttlord_


	8. Changes in Plans

**:: I Need an Adult – Changes in Plans::**

The school was _buzzing_ after the police marched Ms. Lehman _[kicking and screaming]_ through the halls. The shouting attracted attention, doors opened, heads peered out, and a veritable _walk of shame_ was carried out as the police took their _damn time_ in getting her out through the main office. Teachers who had tried to call their students back into their rooms ended up emerging themselves, small groups gathering up into a crowd that filled the hallway behind the woman as whispers were exchanged between all mouths. Tongues wagged with all sorts of rumors, with the kids who had been in the science class being the only ones left out of it all- they'd been learning what a _plaintiff_ was, and what it meant when the court held someone in contempt from the PC Super... but that didn't stop Wendy from both sending information out from beneath the table, as well as getting it.

Of course, when Wendy told her group of friends that Ms. Lehman had been arrested for being a pedo, she didn't _dare_ include the words 'mock trial'; that would have made it vastly less scandalous, and they wanted this shit to _spread like wildfire._ What was going on in the school proper right now was a _smear campaign_ that would happen to the be a vehicle for the truth for the first time in the history of _ever._

In minutes, the news she was getting clued her in to the fact that Ms. Lehman had been successfully taken away by the police, but had left an _angry mob_ behind, a mob that wanted _action._ Students whispered to students, teachers overheard, and the words on everyone's lips was _"Ms. Lehman is a legit rapist!"_

What Wendy wouldn't know until class was over was that their plans had drastically _changed._ By the end of what had become _legal 101,_ she and Dee were called up by their knight in Social Justice Warrior armor, the man looking at least _mildly_ victorious at the moment as he took a seat at Ms. Lehman's desk.

"Hello children." He greeted as the room cleared after the bell, leaning forward from the seat he'd taken with his hands braced upon his knees. There was an _eagerness_ in his stance; events had been put into motion and he wanted the conclusion as badly as anyone else. "I apologize for changing the plan without notifying you, as well as any possible ageist implication that, because you're younger than eighteen, you did not have the right to be part of that plan. I simply could not stand by and allow Ms. Lehman to continue teaching when she was directly harassing a student- that would have been tacit to using that student as bait, or sacrifice, and that would have been completely inappropriate."

"We understand." Wendy assured with a nod; she'd had a little time to process it by now. "Will you be teaching this class for the rest of the day, in place of science?"

"I will." He confirmed. "I need to ensure that the mock trial will be carried out by a student body who has been educated in the basic workings of a court of law, as well as how to conduct themselves at such a _charged_ trial. By the end of the day, everyone in your grade will be informed on the basics of the case, and that you'll be carrying out interviews for the prosecution in the lunch room."

"... The... lunch room? After school _today?_ We had thought someplace off-campus might be appropriate, since we hadn't yet requested any spaces beyond a place to hold the trial."

"I've secured a venue for you, and considering the _volume_ of volunteers you may get, I might suggest that the lunchroom will be more manageable than a location at a student's home- unless that student is Token, in which case, I concede your point."

Wendy thought about it for a moment, the _mob_ she'd just encouraged... yeah, he had a point.

"We'll use the lunch room. But... just the prosecution? What about the defense?"

"It would be inappropriate for you to select _both."_ The PC Super pointed out. "This is a _mock trial,_ Wendy, not a _kangaroo court._ Any students who want to volunteer to work defense will go down to the police station and apply as a public defender. If no one volunteers, the police will provide her with an actual public defender as part of her rights as a citizen. That is both fair, and realistic."

Faintly, next to Wendy, Dee scoffed. Wendy imagined they were sharing the same thought again; _who the hell would want to represent a child rapist?_ Even in a _mock_ trial, it sounded like a job no one would want.

"And her right to _hire_ an attorney?" Wendy quested.

"She still has it." He agreed with a somewhat stiff nod; one that showed a measure of concern.

That was frightening; if Ms. Lehman was afraid enough of this mock trial, they might find themselves facing down an _actual_ lawyer.

* * *

" _Douchebag! HEY, DOUCHEBAG!"_

Shouting in the locker room; it was time for gym, and Dee had already hastily changed in one of the bathroom stalls, stashing their things in their locker when Cartman began his yelling.

A second later, she was damn near knocked off her feet by the boy's impressive bulk; an event that knocked a short gasp of surprise out of her. Had he just _tackled_ her, or-

 _Oh god, it's a hug. I'm being hugged. What the fuck, it's simultaneously weak as shit and absolutely soul crushing._ With an elbow, she pried the bigger kid away from herself, turning a bit to stare _questioningly_ at Cartman... an activity she share with the rest of the guys in the locker bay.

"Oh my _God_ Douchebag, I _never knew you cared so much for me!_ You're the best friend anyone could ever fucking ask for!"

He was babbling, it was nonsense. _He's lost is fucking mind. It's official, Eric Cartman has fucking snapped._

" _Dude!"_ Kyle called out, mostly changed and staring on in utter shock at the scene before him. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

"You guys haven't heard? The _whole fucking school_ is talking about it." Cartman turned towards Kyle, but slung an arm around Dee's shoulders at the same time, dragging her along for the ride with the sort of insistent grip that belonged to a toddler; somehow strong while being covered in a layer of soft baby fat. "That Ms. Lehman teacher, she's a fucking pedophile! She's been raping little boys for _years!_ She picks a boy in one of her classes every year and..." He shuddered, as if the words carried a great deal more weight in that second, leaning in and whispering. _"Rapes them until they give her money for the rest of their lives."_

"Yeah, we all heard _that_ part, but what does that have to do with Dee?" Stan quested, stepping a foot onto the bench between lockers to tie his shoes.

"Douchebag got me moved out of the first hour class!" Cartman crowed. "Wendy told me about it, that it was this asshole right here, this _beautiful fucking asshole_ who got me moved because _he_ was gonna be the next target, and he didn't want me getting raped with him! Isn't that the _best fucking friend_ you've ever heard of?!"

 _Somehow, I doubt those are the words Wendy used. Besides, she only would have gone after you if she thought you were my boyfriend. Are you insinuating we were kinda a gay couple while sitting at the same table? No shame, Cartman, just saying._ Even as Dee internally ripped on Cartman, she was somewhat desperate to slip out from under his shoulder- had he not yet discovered deodorant? The BO from beneath his arm was something _strong._

"Oh, hey, that's right- you're going to be the plaintiff at the trial, aren't you?" Kyle asked while turning attention away from Cartman. "I'm going to be trying out for the prosecution; I think I've got a pretty good shot. If I get it, I'm gonna have my dad coach my approach a bit. Asking a professional never hurts, right?"

 _That_ made Dee happy- that was _right!_ Kyle's dad was into law, and Kyle himself could be quite the public speaker when he applied himself. She'd have to send Wendy a text, instructing her to pay some special attention to him; if they had to face down a _real defense_ _lawyer_ , Kyle might just be their ace in the hole.

Next to her, Cartman started laughing uproariously.

"You _need_ to ask for some professional help if you think they're gonna let a fucking _jew_ lead the prosecution!" Cartman belted out between fits of laughter. "I mean- I mean- it's not like anyone's is gonna _pay you, KEYL!_ What kind of fucking _moron_ are you, anyway?"

 _Alright, had enough of you._

Dee shifted her shoulders, right fist coming into her left palm to propel the point of her right elbow directly into Cartman's gut. The hit was solid, forcing him away and allowing her to escape, and move over to stand next to Kyle; a physical show that she preferred him over Cartman.

 _Also, it just felt good to knock the wind outta the fatass._

" _What?! Are you seriously right now?!"_

The reaction was somewhat predictable. Half-bent over, Cartman had changed from _oh-so-happy_ to be Dee's friend, to glaring summarily at Dee, Kyle, and Stan. Kenny was there, too, but he was still quietly getting dressed; he'd not yet acted against Cartman, and thus had not incited his wrath.

" _Really_ Douchebag? You're gonna side with that fucking _bitch-ass jew?!_ Once he figures out no one is gonna pay him, he'll fucking betray you and that bitch teacher is gonna _walk! Do you hear me, she's gonna fucking walk if you pick him!"_

"And who do you think would do a better job? _You?"_ Stan asked pointedly.

" _Fuck yeah_ I'd do a better job! No one has the _authoritah_ I have!"

"Then _maybe_ you should just try out for the defense." Kyle suggested, suddenly smiling. "I hear the haven't found any volunteers yet- you and me, head-to-head Cartman. One winner, one loser, and one _perfectly impartial_ judge."

Dee glanced to Kyle. _That_ was a dangerous challenge. Cartman was disturbingly good at being persuasive; she almost feared going up against him more than she feared going up against an honest to goodness defense lawyer.

" _Maybe I will!"_ Cartman spat back, turning and stomping on to head out of the locker room... without changing. Dee suspected he cared more about emphasis than his clothing points for the day.

"... Jesus, dude." Stan murmured after the door closed. The boy's locker room had been rather _quiet_ during all the shouting; everyone had been paying attention. Now, the din picked up again, but it had a new subject; Cartman Vs. Kyle, the battle of the fucking year. "Are you sure that's a bear you _wanted_ to poke? I mean, you _know_ how crazy he can get."

"It doesn't matter, man. Do you _really_ think the _PC Super Judge_ is gonna let a pedo teacher walk? I wouldn't be surprised if he starts punching kids in the jury until they return a guilty verdict... _not_ that I'm gonna rely on that. No, I wanna win this, fair an square, and rub it in Cartman's fat face."

Dee supposed Kyle's reasoning was somewhat solid, though she wasn't sure she wanted to be a witness to that kind of violence towards minors. None of them had forgotten what happened to butters.

"Besides, this isn't just about Cartman; putting away a pedophile would be a pretty big victory for me." He added, taking on a more serious note. "... it's almost personal, I guess."

"Just don't let it get _too_ personal, Cartman will use that, man." Stan cautioned.

"I know, I know, I'll keep my head in the game." Kyle promised, looking over towards Dee. "That's part of my responsibility to the person I'm representing, right? I've got your back, man."

That got Dee to smile, and Kenny finally stepped up to join the group just as the warning bell rang. He didn't say anything, but he put one hand on Kyle's shoulder, one hand on Dee's, and nodded. He was confident that Kyle would do well.

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner:: _

_Holy wow people we're almost to the conclusion of this story._ And, as I promised certain readers, MORE KYLE! He was the obvious choice for the persecution, and I knew the second he was in place on that, Cartman _had_ to go to defense just because _Kyle._ That said, bit of a short chapter, but I felt it got exactly where it needed to go. We've set up the final obstacle before the finale... and it's mother fucking Cartman.

We are three days away from flying out. Anxiety makes squealing noises. I sound like I'm doing a Tweek impression.

Oh! And I made a blog over on Tumblr. It's under the same name as here, JustCallMeButtlord; feel free to look me up, send me questions, and whatever else. :3

- _Buttlord_


	9. Might my Brother Speak

**:: I Need an Adult – Might my Brother Speak::**

" _Wendy? I got your text, what's up?"_

Away from the hubbub that was school lunch, Kenny had found himself led elsewhere by a message from Wendy that she needed to speak with him, _urgently,_ and directed him to meet her near the bathrooms. Since the bathrooms closest to the lunchroom were somewhat up the hall, it was the furthest one could get from the rest of the kids in their grade level without stepping out-of-bounds. Reinforcing this fact was a hall monitor that came into view, arms crossed and scowling as Kenny's face peered around the corner. Of course, Wendy was there, too, hugging the wall just outside of the entrance to the bathrooms and looking... _tense._ Her face was set and her hands were in her pockets, head turning fractions to the left and right as her eyes dashed this way and that way.

When he arrived, one of her hands appeared briefly to sweep a couple stray hairs out of her face. She stepped a little closer to him, chewing on her lip for a second before he answered his oh-so-innocent question of ' _what's up?'._

"I've been going over the evidence packets, and, well- how much did you read when you were... _obtaining_ them?" She asked, keeping her voice low and her back to the hall monitor. Kenny had his muffler back up, having eaten his lunch quickly. No one was going to lip-read or hear him. She, on the other hand, felt she couldn't be too careful at the moment. The school already felt like a powder keg on the verge of explosion- news had spread that Cartman was going to apply for the defense, and Kyle was the favorite for prosecution. It had a horrifying effect; kids who had all agreed that a pedo teacher should be put the fuck away were now divided along the lines of who they thought would _win._ It wasn't about who was _right_ anymore, but rather who would emerge victorious... a display of tribalism that made Wendy feel more than a little sick.

Her question seemed to strike Kenny as odd, his head cocking slightly to the side and causing his spill of blond hair to shift while his brows came together. _"Some of it, not all. Once we decided to copy the documents, I didn't really have the time to read every little thing; Buttlord was taking them faster than I could skim them. Why?"_

Wendy winced; that wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear. She was about to tell him something that made her upset just to _think_ about, but there was reason for it. She wouldn't have called him over here, otherwise.

On her phone, she had individual photos of each page and folder that Dee got; a personal record for her to comb through after they handed out all the copies that had been made. During that time she'd come across a name that was more familiar than not.

"You mentioned me possibly getting in contact with one of the previous victims, and I think I've got a good candidate, but I wanted to talk to you before I went ahead and tried to persuade the guy into being a surprise witness. I might need your help in convincing him, and even then just getting him to give me the time of day to _talk_ to him would help-"

Kenny put his hands up. " _Whoa, whoa, Wendy, slow down- who is he?"_

 _Goddammit she hated this._ She didn't want to do this, but witnesses were the cornerstones of a solid case when physical evidence was either old or missing; particularly the victims in a serial rape case. She'd done her hunting, tracking down the most recent ones in hopes of getting kids who were hit just a year or two before, but it turned out the majority of them _moved-_ usually after some kind of disciplinary debacle that got them _expelled._ There wasn't _time_ to get them back to South Park so they could give testimony on how they'd been expelled for resisting Ms. Lehman's advances... but there was _one_ recent victim who was still in South Park.

"Your brother, Kevin. He's in the files, too. The pictures, it's... it's all there."

She watched the shock hit him like a bucket of ice water to the face, head jerking back and his eyes going wide. As she spoke, she'd offered up her phone on the specific place in her photo gallery that had the pages pertaining to Kevin McCormick, and he took them with the sort of snap movements that were fueled by surprise and disbelief. Thumbs scrolled through, swiping over to each subsequent page while his eyes cast themselves over the evidence he _didn't want to process._

Wendy felt sick with herself, but it didn't change what needed to be done.

" _That drunk fuck, why didn't he **say** anything?" _Was Kenny's anguished murmur, barely audible through his muffling scarf.

"Every one of Ms. Lehman's tactics are meant to scare her victims into silence and complacence... I understand if you don't want to help me _talk_ to him, I know you guys aren't really that _close,_ but-"

" _I'll talk to him."_

Wendy blinked, cut off and finding herself with a mixture of relief and confusion. "Are... are you sure? If we can get him as a surprise witness, it would help the case a _lot,_ but-"

" _I'll do it."_ Kenny re-iterated, his voice getting stronger. _"He's my brother."_

Wendy heard that- a _drop_ in Kenny's tone, taking away the lighter sound of his day-to-day speech and driving him towards the heavy growl that he used for his Mysterion persona. The _hero_ who tasked himself with protecting South Park's citizens from everything that threatened them- from petty crime to city-burning disaster.

And here she was, telling him that _his own brother_ had suffered years ago, and he'd never even _seen_ it. Never even _guessed_ at it.

 _Never helped someone who desperately needed help._

"Are you sure you don't want me there?" She asked, worry straining her own pitch a little higher. "You might be a little... _too close to this_ to be persuasive."

He shot her a _look_ that seemed angry at first, but melted back into a sad sort of acceptance. He knew she was right, as she often was; it was hard to stay impartial when family was involved- even _asshole family._

" _I need to do this, Wendy. You'd just be a stranger in his house, telling him shit he doesn't wanna hear. If it comes from me..."_

He went quiet, though Wendy could guess where his thoughts were going. No matter _who_ it came from, it might come to blows. Kevin was more than just a drunk teen; he was boisterous, angry, _violent_ when confronted. The way Kenny saw it, it was better that Kevin got mad and hit _him,_ his little brother, than hit _her,_ someone outside the family desperately trying to rope him into something he had no desire to be roped into. She would be violently dismissed, told she had no right to exist in his space, and he'd be right. Kenny? Kenny lived under the same roof as him, there would be no escaping the confrontation, and no amount of screaming or violence would force him off until a point was made.

Kenny handed her phone back to her, and she tucked it away before reaching out to him and putting an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe tell Dee what you're doing?" She suggested to him. "... just in case you need somewhere to be when it's over?"

He sighed, nodding a little. " _Sound advice, as always."_ Kenny agreed.

He had little intention on taking it. After all, if his big bother beat him to death, he'd just wake up back in his bed again. It was a strange, sobering feeling- to think that _he might die tonight_ at the hands of a drunk family member, and Kevin was rarely _not drunk_ these days. As he wandered away from Wendy and back into the lunchroom proper, he stuck to the wall and stared morosely out at the chaotic shifting sea of life that was his peers talking, eating, laughing, shouting- very few of these people ever thought about death. Thought about how close it could be at any given time, or how it could come from not only someone _near_ to them, but someone who had been living with them since the day they were born.

He needed to get Karen out of the house tonight; see if one of her friends was willing to have her over. She didn't need to hear or see whatever was going to happen when he got home.

 _Shame_ passed through his mind following that thought- apparently _no one_ needed to hear or see that Kevin had suffered at the hands of a teacher. When had it started? At the beginning of the year for him? Or did Ms. Lehman take her time in choosing him, promising him a class that he could blithely cut or sleep through and still get an A in so long as he did as he was told? The photos on Wendy's phone, which were not only records of identity and contact pages, but were also the photographs of them... _sealing the deal,_ he supposed.

Kenny tried to remember if anyone noticed Kevin doing better in school during that time, but that was really the trouble- his family didn't notice _anything_ unless it was _wrong._ If the kids had something to eat, oh, okay, don't need to worry about that today. It wasn't until there was _nothing_ in the house that anyone talked about it, and when they talked, they _screamed._ Mom hit dad, dad hit mom, Kevin stumbled in reeking of booze and joining in the shouting because _shouting._ Grades were only a subject that came up when someone was _failing._ Besides that, _no news was good news._

And Kenny sat with Karen in her room, hiding under blankets. He'd done some... less than pleasant work to get her a set of noise-canceling headphones and a solid MP3 player, so she could turn up music over the sound of their family _beating the ever living crap out of one another._

"Hey, Kenny, where did you go, dude?"

His mind stuttered over these thoughts, blinking and glancing over his shoulder to find Stan had approached him without his notice. Despite his mouth being quite hidden beneath his scarf, he forced a smile and turned around. _"I went and looked at titties in the bathroom on my phone."_ He responded with a tone of lecherous glee; something _expected_ of him, so Stan didn't question it. There wasn't even hesitation, he laughed a little and smirked, unaware of what was inside his friend's skull.

"Jeez, dude, you couldn't wait until after school? Well, c'mon, Wendy just put out the sign-up sheet for the interviews after school. We can see who Kyle is gonna _crush_ before he gets to take on Cartman."

" _You go ahead, man, I'll be right behind you."_

* * *

 _Unprepared_ was the word that came to mind when Dee answered the door at 9:33 PM to find a somewhat bloodied Kenny on her doorstep.

She had gotten a text seconds ago that heralded his arrival, simply informing her that he was at her house and asking if he could come inside for a short while. Far be it from _her_ to deny him, particularly not when her parents were already laid down to bed for the night. So, after tugging on the baggy hoodie that was her constant safety blanket against the outside world, she made her way down the steps as stealthily as she could and opened her front door... to see Kenny in his signature orange coat, one eye blackened and crimson blood staining his face as it lazily oozed from a recently punched nose.

It was with wide eyes that she all but _drug_ him into her house, grabbing him by the jacket and yanking him in before he could give her that _kicked puppy_ look that didn't want to _admit_ he needed a little help, but goddamn here he fucking was.

 _He smells like booze- what the hell did he do?!_

Kenny _stumbled_ as she pulled him inside, closing the door behind him with one hand as the other was already lacing beneath his shoulder to encourage him to lean on her. At first he resisted, trying to regain his own feet, but she wouldn't have it; an insistent hand clamped around his ribs and pulled him close, ensuring he wasn't going to fall down onto the living room carpet and leave any stains she'd have to explain in the morning.

" _Fuck-fuck-fuck- not so **hard,** that fucking hurts..." _

A stream of curses got her to loosen up- were his ribs bruised? She wasn't used to seeing him so thoroughly... _beaten._ This vision of him, bloodied and broken up, was not one she saw often... and she did not cherish it. No, Kenny was on the short list of _people_ _she cared about-_ seeing him hurt made her _angry,_ and her reflexive desire was to find out who did this to him and come up with some proper pay-back... but that could wait until _after_ she'd softened her grip and led him to the upstairs bathroom with a more tender touch.

Despite his condition, he didn't _thump_ up the stairs; they managed to step quietly, both understanding the importance of avoiding detection and discovery by her parents. Much as Dee's parents accepted they couldn't _control_ her, there were certain things that were simply _unacceptable._ Having a guest in the house after hours was most _certainly_ one of those things... the fact that he was _male_ didn't matter as much, if only because her parents knew that Dee's predispositions were _broader_ than that. Dee might have _preferred_ boys, but she had a general _interest_ in just about everyone.

Arrival in the bathroom led to another carefully closed door after Dee released Kenny to pull himself up to the mirror and sink. As she flicked the light on, he hesitated an extra few seconds before pulling back his hood and unzipping his jacket to take a proper look at himself.

The shiner was fresh; something that would take several days to heal, and would first turn a horrible black and blue before reverting to healthy pink. His nose was _bleeding,_ but it didn't appear _broken._ Further down, his lower lip had a minor split that was bleeding just as fitfully as his nose, and there was a bruise on his collar where another hard hit had been taken. Further down was harder to see; he still had a shirt on under his jacket; a dark blue T that was threadbare in some places, reflecting many years of use past when the shirt should have been replaced. Were those stains, were was that more blood seeping through? It was hard to tell.

 _Good God Kenny, what the hell happened?_ Dee wondered as she stood behind him in the mirror, staring at him with worry spelled out in the universal language that was her expression. What did he do to get beaten up like this? Better question, _why didn't he tell her before hand?_ Certainly whomever he'd gotten this kind of beat down from, he could have used her help.

Instead of asking aloud, she stepped up and began running water in the sink. She put a finger in the stream, waiting for it to warm up before grabbing a hand towel and soaking it in water that began to steam as it gushed from the faucet. Silently, she took him by the chin and raised the wet cloth to his face. Carefully, she washed away the blood that had begun to cake beneath his nose and around his mouth.

Finally, as she rinsed the red out of the white rag and returned for a second pass, she found her words.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

He was quiet for a long while; he'd been avoiding her gaze for most of this... _interesting_ exchange. Baby blues dodged off to the side, up towards the ceiling, down towards his toes- _anywhere_ but meeting her intense green gaze. Once or twice he'd met her eyes, but quickly glanced away once more, some kind of _shame_ working its way through him like a parasite that intended to feed upon his thoughts before he could shape them into an explanation for his sudden arrival and bloodied condition.

"Kevin." He finally said; the admittance of a name, of a perpetrator, of the fist that had struck him and the person who owned it. "I... I had to talk to him, and... it... went better than I thought?"

Dee thought about making a dry crack about how she was glad not to have siblings, but she wouldn't insult Karen just because Kevin was a massive sack of shit. Karen was a sweet little darling who still had half a chance to grow into a decent human, so long as she had Kenny looking after her. Kevin, on the other hand, was appearing to be more of a lost cause all of the time. "This is better than you thought?" She quested instead, carefully turning his face this way and that with her grip on his chin, nodding slightly as it appeared she'd cleared him of the dried blood. His lip still wept drops of red, and she balled up the hand towel for him to hold against his face... which had the effect of returning him to the muffled language she'd gotten accustomed to translating.

" _I was expecting to be dead."_ He answered her flatly as she turned and opened the cabinet beneath the sink, pulling out some basic first-aid supplies. Ointment, disinfectant, that sort of shit. His statement caused a short _jolt_ within her movement, however; a point between crouched before the cabinet door and placing her gathered items atop the counter that she halted for a few distinct seconds and mulled over the meaning of his words.

 _'I was expecting to be dead.'_ She repeated it within her own mind as bottles and boxes were placed on the white counter-top, next to the sink. Her lips tightened, and she glanced to him.

 _He_ was looking at her now, and _she_ was the one who couldn't hold his gaze. She had to look away, chewing on her lower lip.

"Is that why you didn't tell me? You... you figured I didn't have to worry about it?"

He hated it, but he embraced it. Death, repeating and repeating, and here he turned away from _her,_ one of the few people who _believed_ him, because _she didn't need to know?_

"That's bullshit, Kenny. Even if you had just... _showed up_ tomorrow, none the worse for wear... _that doesn't make it okay._ Physically you might have been alright, but that doesn't make it alright to treat yourself like... like a _disposable meat bag."_

" _Since when do you get bent out of shape about my powers?"_ He asked her through the wash rag, a faintly angry tenor taking. He'd been through a lot tonight, and was likely in _no mood_ to be reproached.

"Since I know what it's like to _die!"_ She hissed back at him, the awareness of her parents just down the hall being the only thing that kept her from _shouting._ "Since I stared down the barrel of a gun- since I- I..." She swallowed, not wanting to say it, but it was already there. "... since I went out to the woods and found my body. _Buried myself._ My bloated, blackened, _zombie-infected_ corpse; it was still out there, covered in leaf-littler, and looking at it? The memory just kept _replaying_ over and over again."

She hadn't told him about that before. Finding her body, putting it in the ground so local wildlife would have a harder time getting to it. Frankly, she wanted to _burn it,_ but she hadn't had the supplies at the time. Part of her had hoped that in going out to the woods, she _wouldn't_ find it, and she could have some sliver of doubt that she'd mis-remembered something, or taken a nightmare as memory.

"Just because you _can_ die and be okay, doesn't mean you _are_ okay. I... I get that more than ever now. _Please..."_ She reached out to him, hands landing on his shoulders and finally _looking_ at him.

Neither of them looked away this time.

"... don't treat yourself as disposable. If something bad is gonna happen... tell me. We're partners. You've been there for me dozens of times. _Let me be there for you."_

His hands moved, the washrag pulled away from his face, and his stumbling gait falling a little forward as both arms reached around her. In an awkward, _gravity did most of the work_ sort of way, Dee found herself... being hugged? Leaned upon? _Clung to?_ Maybe all three, but the point was that she didn't let him fall down. She caught him beneath the arms, hefted him up, and held him against herself. She felt his head on her shoulder, _felt his weight melt into her grasp,_ and became aware that _he was crying._

She didn't shush him, or tell him that it was okay. _She wasn't a fucking liar._ None of this shit was okay- none of the hell he went through was _okay._

But she could stand there and hold him. She could hold him up until he found the strength to stand.

"I'm here." She told him softly, hands folding around him to gently rub his back. " _I'm here."_

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _ **HOLY FEELS BATMAN!**_

Hokay, for those who have gone and found my Tumblr [ Same name as my name here, if you're curious ], aside from posting about the ongoing stresses of the move, I also happened to post about certain optional story events that people showed support for getting included... namely Kevin being one of Ms. Lehman's previous victims. While this was originally planned as Wendy and Kenny working together to convince Kevin to show up to the trial, the simple fact is _I didn't know how to write that._ I've never really had to confront someone post-sexual assault and tell them they _needed_ to speak up for the sake of someone else, and it was not a mental space I particularly wanted to be in at this moment.

So instead I decided to focus on the aftermath with Kenny, and have some hardcore shippy feels because _Goddamnit JUST KISS ALREADY YOU POOR TORTURED FUCKS._

Next chapter, it's time to dive into the trial itself and get this fic wrapped up.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	10. Pregame

**:: I Need an Adult – Pregame::**

"Wait, wait, wait, so all of this is for a _mock_ trial? You drug me out of my class for a _mock trial?_ This isn't _legal!"_

Cries of illegality and unfairness fell on deaf ears at the police station as Ms. Lehman found herself in a holding cell, quickly on her feet and with her fingers wrapped around the bars, shouting after the cops who had deposited her there.

"This is _bullshit! I want my fucking lawyer!"_

"You mean the lawyer you'd pay for with _blackmail money_ you stole from your students?"

Abigail's head jerked around as another voice addressed her; a man on the other side of the bars from her, but different from the uniformed men who had just shoved her in here and slammed the door shut. No, this particular graying red-head was someone she'd seen more often on the _news_ than in person, but here he stood all the same; arms crossed and seeming _contemptuous_ of her existence in his holding cells.

"I know my rights!" She snapped at the Sargent- Harrison, wasn't it? Yes, she was pretty sure that was his name. "I want my _fucking phone call!"_

"Of course, if this were a _real_ arrest leading up to a _real_ court date, we'd respect your rights to the fullest." Harrison responded glibly while stepping closer to the bars, peering at her through them with a sneer beneath his mustache. " _But,_ this is all make-believe for the kiddies- _isn't it?_ But if you hadn't _done_ anything, _why are you so scared?"_

"I'm not _scared,_ I'm _pissed!_ If this isn't a real arrest, you can't _hold_ me- if I _am_ arrested you have to give me my phone call- _fucking pick one!"_

"Oh, that's _cute,_ isn't it? You think you have some kind of _control_ here. You see, Ms. Lehman, the kiddies might think this is just a mock trial, but me and the boys here? _We_ know the truth- we already got the evidence packet, we've seen the records, I know _exactly_ how much you've stolen from each of those little boys as they grew up and started working... and I frankly don't think there's a more disgusting crime you could have committed as a teacher. Someone who _accepts_ that they'll barely break even for the rest of their life to teach the next generation of productive citizens; that's a place of _honorable sacrifice._ And what do you do with it? _Blackmail. Theft. Disgusting,_ _ **fucking**_ _disgusting."_

She blinked. Evidence packet? She hadn't heard about this, but what Harrison was describing fit the bill for- _her file cabinet. Who the fuck got into her file cabinet?_

Questions for another time, if someone got into that shit, wouldn't the Sargent find the _photos_ to be the gross-out point? She had heard the word _rapist_ hurled at her a number of times before she'd been taken away from the school, and yet this asshole seemed most concerned with the monetary gains she'd gotten from using those photos as a threat against the boys she'd taught as they moved into the next stages of their lives. The percentage of their income they'd just _give away_ to keep certain photographs out of the hands of their wives, girlfriends, _boyfriends,_ peers and otherwise was frankly _astounding,_ particularly when she'd played a part in _hooking them up_ with their romantic interests back when they'd still been in school. It carried a certain flavor of betrayal; that the cheating had not only occurred with someone _out-of-bounds,_ but also at the same time their long-term relationship had just begun to _bloom._

She'd watched panic well up in many faces when she leveled her ultimatum, usually waiting until the boy in question got his first decent job. She cast her net wide, choosing her targets on whim between how _effective_ she felt her tactics would be as well as for _potential future gains._ She couldn't _just_ pick smart students- one never knew when a tortured poor kid might suddenly turn into a world-renowned artist or whatnot... and sometimes it was just fun to get her kicks, regardless of whether the boy in question was on a fast train to nowhere.

"Wait, wait, _wait a second-_ so... just to be straight, you're pissed about the _bank records,_ not the _photos?"_

" _The photos?_ Fuck no, the photos are fucking _hot,_ it's what you're using them for that's fucking wrong as shit. _Seriously,_ where were all these hot teachers when _I_ was a kid?" Harrison rolled his eyes, hands shifting to his hips in an authoritative position. "But then you turn around and use a couple hot nights of passion as _blackmail_ for the rest of these guy's lives? You're like the ex from hell taken to a whole new level, ruining lives with your fucking _greed._ What are you even using the money for? We already tore up you apartment and, _man,_ you sure as hell ain't spending it there. Designer shoes, maybe? Off-shore accounts?"

 _I'm fairly certain that if I tell you, it'll count as a confession. Cute, but I'm not falling into that one._ Her lips tightened, releasing the bars and crossing her own arms over her chest. "I want my phone call."

"And I want all my sexy teacher fantasies fulfilled- but I'm well outta school so _that_ isn't really gonna work out, so hows about you sit tight and-"

"Harrison! Harrison, we've got a kid from the school- he says he wants to volunteer as a public defender!"

Another cop had appeared at the door, shouting for attention and looking _confused._ Oh, sure, the Principal had notified them that might get a volunteer, but no one expected anyone to _show up._

"Ugh, is it a prissy little _girl_ going on about how _men can get raped, too?"_ Harrison asked without any desire to actually _engage_ with such an individual. "Because if it is you can tell that little saboteur to take her little _feminist_ butt to-"

"It's a boy- he's fat and loud and he insists he's the best representation Ms. Lehman's gonna get."

Harrison's voice cut off, and be blinked a few times. Then, standing away from the bars, he turned around and stared at the other cop in the doorway. Apparently he hadn't expected _anyone_ from the school to sincerely volunteer; what he said suggested he expected a _faux defense_ to show up and try to ensure what was coming was nothing more than a _kangaroo court._

Abigail supposed she should have been happy he was turning away anyone who _actively_ wanted her to lose this, but the description of a fat and loud boy brought only one person to mind, and _he_ wasn't exactly the best prospect, either.

Harrison, on the other hand, was _grinning._

" _Show him in."_

* * *

The mock trial had been scheduled for Friday.

The PC Super was letting kids have the day off for it throughout the school district, and posters had gone up everywhere in town, pretty much overnight, to advertise the event. The gym at the middle school was being set up for it, with expectation that even with the bleachers and extra seating provided on the floor, the back of the room was going to be standing room only. A raised platform was getting ordered specifically for the local news to set up their cameras and record the whole thing for a live broadcast, and Wendy was going to have her own set-up to send a live-stream straight to YouTube.

Last Dee heard, even the fucking _Mayor_ was going to show up for this one. Whatever the PC Super had done, he'd turned the hype machine up to eleven, and the _mob_ was already beginning to form on Thursday afternoon- people gathering outside the police station that wanted Ms. Lehman's head on a proverbial pike; parents who feared their kids were threatened, fueled even more by both Wendy and Dee making the rounds online and stressing the fact that Ms. Lehman was truly guilty of the crimes she stood accused of in this mock trial.

All things said, it was beginning to get a touch _scary_ how well this was going.

Of course, there were other hurdles to deal with, now that Kyle had been selected for the prosecution. _One_ hurdle in particular, in fact...

"Dee, you _need_ to give testimony if you're going to be a witness- if you don't _say_ something, how am I supposed to work with that? _At all?"_

Kyle had requested a meeting for the prosecution to plan out their attack before the trial the next day, which ended up taking place in the PC Super's office at the district building. Dee was really the only person who _needed_ to be there, but Stan was standing by, as was Wendy as their official fact-finder. Finally, the PC Super himself was there, attending to his own share of getting things organized while occasionally chiming in with advice. At this particular moment, however, he didn't seem to _have_ any.

"It is pretty hard to build a case without an articulate witness..." Wendy agreed with some reluctance, currently operating a total of three different devices; laptop, tablet, and phone. " _And_ you're the plaintiff, Dee, couldn't you say something? Just this _once?"_

 _Right, and have the whole school get on my ass for the rest of forever about me talking. Y'all know there's a **reason** why I picked up this habit in the first place, right?_

"Can't we just say he's a mute?" Stan asked. "Let him express himself some other way? I mean, mute people have to give testimony too, right? If we say he _can't_ talk, then he just has to write it down or something."

"Dee, are you _actually_ mute?" The PC Super questioned from his desk, peering down with genuine curiosity; the disability had never been claimed, but the man didn't know any better.

"No, he's not." Kyle reported. "I mean, we've only heard him talk _once,_ but we know he _can."_

"Then you can't claim mute- it's an insult to people with actual limitations to claim to be differently abled than you are- that's not PC." The Super ruled flatly. "And I won't have a single student _lying_ in a court of law, mock or otherwise."

" _UGH!"_ Kyle's hands grasped the sides of his green hat, yanking down upon it in frustration as he turned himself in a small circle, expending some energy. "This is _stupid,_ Dee! What's the point of keeping quiet like this if it's going to let someone who _actually threatened your safety_ walk?! Why do you _do_ this?"

All Dee could really do was stare back at him; there was a _reason_ behind her silence, more than just being a massive troll. Her powers over Facebook and Instagram had evidenced that her _image_ had a certain kind of power behind it- her parents guessed a long time ago that her _voice_ also had an effect. It was part of their _hide all the time_ plan that she just _not talk_ whenever possible. And yeah, sure, she'd been _ignoring_ that to a certain extent in special circumstances, and found her own reasons for not _wanting_ to talk the majority of the time, but this time was different. This time she actually _wanted_ to talk. She _wanted_ to help Kyle, but the fact that the news was going to be there? She had no idea what speaking on TV would do, what effect it would have on South Park itself, or people's awareness of her and her abilities.

It was an unknown she couldn't afford to broach... even in the face of possible sexual harassment, rape, and extortion. If she became an even _bigger_ deal that she already was to the US Government, they might just decide to _kill_ her rather than let her continue on without their leash.

"Kyle, calm down! Can't you see he's upset, too?" Wendy called out, putting her laptop to the side and hopping down from the chair she'd been sitting in. "There's more at play than Dee just being Dee."

"What? _Honestly what?_ He's just a fucking _troll_ who never talks so he can _fuck with people!_ And now Cartman is on the defense, and I'm supposed to somehow beat him with a witness that won't _talk?_ I'd call it a _set-up,_ but that feels just a little too polite!" All the good will and comradery that Kyle had expressed back when he first stated his intent to try out for the prosecution had _evaporated_ in the face of Dee's failure to co-operate with how he felt a trial needed to work. "I've got a key witness who won't _witness,_ and all the other victims have either _moved the hell away_ from this town or _won't answer our calls!_ This. Is. A. _Disaster!"_

"Do you think he's scared?" Stan asked, looking rather directly at Dee. "... I'd be scared to talk, too, if it were me. Everyone is going to think he's a wimp, gay, or both for calling rape on a female teacher."

" _Hey!"_ The PC Super barked, making nearly everyone jump. "The perception that boys cannot be raped is a symptom of toxic masculinity in our culture, and utterly wrong! _Any_ sexual contact without clear, enthusiastic consent is rape, and consent cannot be given in any situation wherein age, authority structures, or status create a power indifference between the two parties. Dee is both underage and was being approached by a teacher, as were all the other victims; by _definition_ consent could not be given. That has nothing to do with weakness, masculinity, or sexuality. Do you understand the microaggression you just made, Stan Marsh?"

"But it's true! That's what people are going to think! It's _their_ microaggression for thinking that, I'm just recognizing that's what is going to happen! I don't believe it myself- I know Dee can kick some ass when it comes down to it."

"Ah, well, you should have clarified that." The Super cleared his throat, relaxing back into his chair from a position that had been ready to jump _over_ his desk and correct Stan physically. "Carry on, bro."

"I... guess I'd be scared, too." Kyle admitted as Wendy moved a little to stand by Stan, a sheepish smile exchanged between the on-again-off-again lovers. They weren't dating right now, and hadn't been talking for a while... but Wendy suddenly started talking to Stan again right after Dee _reset_ that aborted _zombie timeline_. He must have done something right during that track of events. A moment of trust between them, maybe working as partners again? Maybe one of them saved the other? Or hell, they just supported each other during the chaos? Anything that engendered _positivity_ had a chance of having stuck in Wendy's subconscious and made her feel like giving him yet another chance to at least be _friends..._ though it never _stayed_ that way with those two.

Just as Dee found herself appreciating how it was kinda cute, a knock came at the door. Shortly after, without waiting for permission, it opened with all eyes turned to see who was coming into the PC Super's office. The Super stood up behind his desk, ready to dismiss the intruder so that their meeting could continue, but he was stopped short when she saw who it was.

The first figure revealed was Kenny in his bright orange parka, pushing the door open. His bruised face still wasn't looking that great, but Dee was glad to see him. She was about to smile her silent greeting to him... until she noticed he wasn't alone. A taller boy followed after Kenny; older than the middle schoolers in the room, with dirty blond hair and a _bored_ expression on his face that mixed with a constant baseline of _anger._ He wore a dirty green jacket over a gray and stained shirt, with torn up jeans that were probably more patched fabric than original denim at this point.

"Kevin." Kyle stated with surprise, recognizing the elder McCormick brother following after the younger into this fairly posh office. Pretty much all eyes locked on to him; _no one_ had expected him to show up, not after Kenny had gotten the shit beaten out of him in a reported attempt to talk his brother into coming. Wendy had told everyone about it, though she hadn't been aware of just how _far_ that beating had gone.

All the attention made the older boy look down, shoving his hands into his pockets and glaring out at all assembled from between strands of unwashed, greasy teenager hair.

"... you're all... uh... trying to put Ms. Lehman away?" He asked, sounding unsure of himself when _aggression_ wasn't the right color for his tone. "Like, _away-away?_ This lame mock trial bullshit is actually leading up to somethin'?"

" _Yes_." The PC Super responded with strength exerted from an adult diaphragm; an amount of projection the youngers in the room were not yet physically capable of. "Are you here to help?"

" _Why the fuck else would I be here?"_ Kevin drawled, raising his chin towards the PC Super. "Are we going to do this lame ass shit, or fucking what? Because if not, I have better things I could be doing right now."

 _Like getting drunk, I'm sure._ Dee thought to herself dryly, restraining the defined _urge_ to walk right up to Kevin and sucker-punch him in the gut. She'd spent last night looking after Kenny, carefully treating everything Kevin had _done_ to him... and now he was just _standing_ there, supposedly one of the _good guys_ now, with Kenny standing in front of him like a goddamned ambassador.

 _He's a victim, too._ She reminded herself in a less angry voice. _That's why he's here._

That didn't help her relax all that much.

"Oh, we're doing this." Kyle suddenly spoke up, renewed hope in his voice. More than that, _confidence._ "Come on in, Kevin, we need to go over your testimony."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Okay I swear to god, next chapter is the trial itself. I keep thinking I'm ready to dive into it, and then I go 'wait, how am I going to do this?' and get bogged down into another detail. I just felt like after the last chapter I needed just a _little_ more, and, well, the joy of a pleasure project is I get to do things in a way that feel natural to me. So, there we are. This felt like meaningful progression to me, and that's why it's here.

Also, Wendy and Stan being dorks in the background.

As always, I thank everyone for their continued support of my work, and an extra shout-out to everyone who has come found me on Tumblr. [If you haven't you just may want to consider it; I post sketches there! As well as full-blown pieces of art, like Kenny and Dee hugging it out at the end of last chapter. Yeah, I arted that up, in full color.] The blog I'm running is also an askblog for Dee, so if you wanna ask her questions and have them answered in-character, you can do that. :3

 _ONWARDS!_

- _Buttlord_


	11. For All The World's A Stage

**:: I Need an Adult – For All The World's A Stage::**

" _All rise for the Honorable PC Superintendent Judge."_

To say the gym was _packed_ would be an understatement beyond understatement. From wall to wall was a sea of people, students, parents, and everyone else in-between who had heard about a pedo teacher getting tried in a mock trial at the school, _by_ the students who had the most to fear from her. Kids who might have had something better to do with their suddenly free Friday morning had come for the rivalry between Kyle and Cartman, adults had come out of concern, genuine interest, or boredom, and plenty of other randos came because _there was a crowd, so obviously that's where they needed to be._

Dee was mostly certain that this many people in the _building_ was breaking fire-code, but no one seemed to care as people overflowed the floor-space and the gym doors had to be held open to keep appropriate air-flow going through the cavernous room. Tables had been set up in the lunch room outside, so even more people could hang out in the general area and watch Wendy's live-stream on their phones. Not for the first time, it felt as if the _entire town_ had focused on a single event.

It made her just a touch nervous to be involved... thankfully she'd thought ahead enough to predict just how _warm_ it was going to be in the gym with so many people, and worn her binder with a T-shirt instead of her bulky blue hoodie. Much as she loved that sweater for it's ability to obscure her sex, it wasn't _suited_ to a room where the emergency exits being opened to the cold Colorado outdoors only introduced a _tepid_ breeze across the tops of everyone's heads. Truly, she was amazed by both students and adults who kept on their signature outwear despite the heat; maybe it was just a local thing? She wasn't born in South Park, much as she thought of herself as _from_ this town, now, and she just didn't get it.

 _More amazing is your ability to contemplate stupid shit when something important is going on. Pay attention!_

At the command of _All Rise,_ everyone who had a chair to sit in stood up, including Dee. Across from the table and chair she'd been provided to sit with her 'lawyer', Kyle, there was another table and chair where their enemies sat; Cartman and Ms. Lehman. Both Cartman and Kyle had made an effort to dress well for the event, wearing what could described as the Sunday Best- suit jacket, button down shirt, slacks, and proper dress shoes; Cartman in blue, Kyle in charcoal gray, and both of them being of the few who had _removed_ their hats and combed their respective hair. Kyle, in particular, required a decent amount of product that smelled of lemons to keep his red curly chaos in line atop his scalp. Ms. Lehman, too, had gone to the effort of dressing formally with a white blouse done up to the top button and black knee-length skirt, complemented by nude tights and a set of modest pumps. She'd gone back to her natural make-up colors, no doubt trying to _downplay_ any sort of sexual energy she might exude.

Frankly, Dee felt just a touch _underdressed._ With a binder and a loose black T-shirt, she hadn't really thought about _presentation_ beyond tying her curly-ass hair back and out of her face and putting on a set of cargo pants that didn't have any holes in it. _Fuck it, at least I'm comfortable._ She thought to herself- both her legal council and her opposition were already beginning to turn red with the warmth.

She supposed the person she really had to feel bad for was the Judge- PC Super had taken the whole 'Judge' thing to the next level, with the black robes and even the white powdered wig. It appeared they'd simply _wheeled in_ a platform for his place to be raised up above everyone else, with a hastily constructed gate around where witnesses would sit. Just to the side, the jury had already taken their place; a selection of other kids in Dee's grade that had been chosen at random and contained an even mix of both boys and girls. Among them she recognized Henryetta, Butters, Pip, and Red. If pressed she could probably name all twelve of them, but she _wasn't_ and all she really cared about was whether they were on her side or not.

As the Super Judge took a seat, so did everyone else. It was time to begin.

"Ms. Abigail Samantha Lehman, you stand accused of numerous counts of sexual harassment, coercion of minors to have underage relations, rape, blackmail, and extortion taking place over the last _twenty-two_ years of your career with the South Park school district. How do you plead?"

The look on Ms. Lehman's face was _sour-_ she didn't like this. She didn't like how _public_ it was, and she didn't like going along with what she no doubt felt was a sort of _charade_ put on by those she usually held power over. She only stood up with a light prod from Cartman, who also stood up next to her and placed his hands aggressively on the desk they were sharing.

" _Not guilty."_ She intoned stubbornly, projecting over a gym full of whispering people who could not help but murmur back and forth in the background. It was a general _hum_ that got louder as she refused to capitulate at the first turn and let this end quickly.

"Then the trial will proceed with the opening statements. The prosecution has the floor."

Cartman and Ms. Lehman took their seats, and it was Kyle's turn to step up and address both the room and the jury. As he got up, Dee saw him clasp his hands behind his back- it _looked_ authoritative, but it was an easy cover for the fact that his fingers were trembling.

"In preparing for this trial, I've been reminded that the _burden of guilt_ falls upon the prosecution to provide- that the crux of our legal system is _innocent until proven guilty."_ Kyle began. Unlike his hands, there was no shaking in his voice. Dee got the feeling that he'd practiced this speech, perchance even with his father coaching him. "And that it falls upon myself, the prosecution, to provide the proof for that guilt- but you see, I don't really have a _job_ today, because all of that proof was already provided for me... in a _meticulous filing system,_ maintained by the defendant; Ms. Lehman. Today, we will be _exploring_ these files, and understanding what they represent- a long and _well documented_ tale of _entrapment,_ sexual coercion, _rape,_ and extortion. Ms. Lehman has, rather kindly, provided us with every _detail_ of her crimes, making it _disturbingly_ clear just how guilty she is... and yet, she chooses to sit _right there,_ and tell you that she is innocent."

With that, Kyle introduced the antagonist of his story with a sweep of his hand. In a more dramatic setting, the house lights might have turned off and a spotlight might have kicked on, perchance with an appropriately menacing sting of music to highlight the villain of this production. In Dee's head, all these things were true.

No doubt, in Kyle's head, the spotlight was on _Cartman;_ his true enemy. His gaze towards the defendant's table lingered an extra moment before his attention returned to the jury, occasionally turning out towards the general audience as well as he spoke.

"So, today, I will be presenting my case to the esteemed jury of my peers as well as the general public. I will have the unfortunate privilege of walking you through the laundry list of victims, the tactics employed by Ms. Lehman, and the means by which she has abused and controlled more than a dozen little boys who all came to this very school with the expectation to _learn._ How, beyond the victims she was able to take _full advantage_ of, there were still others who suffered expulsion for resisting her over the most _minor_ infractions of school policy. How, _to this day,_ she was continuing this cycle of abuse until finally, my client, found himself in a position to say _no more_ and bring Ms. Lehman to this court of the people. What is taking place before you is not a story of _victim-hood,_ but an act of _bravery-_ my client has found the courage to say _no, this is not okay._ I plead with the jury- I hope you, too, find this courage. Thank you."

 _Damn, someone needs to join speech club, stat. That was fucking beautiful, Kyle._

Cartman stood up before Kyle had returned to his seat, awaiting a gesture from the PC Judge that he had the floor as his only courtesy before stepping up to take it.

Dee found herself leaning _forward_ in her seat as Cartman stepped up to stand front-and-center in the small area cleared in the mass of people who came to watch this trial take place. _Truly,_ she wanted to know how the hell he was going to _spin this_ when all the records and evidence were right there, carefully filed and alphabetized. _How the fuck_ was he going to say _anything_ that was going to get the jury on his side?

"I realize it's a _tad_ early for this, but if I may ask a question of the prosecution?" Cartman quested, peering not at the jury, but the _judge._ The PC Super looked surprised, and exchanged that look of surprise with Kyle, who shrugged, unsure of what Cartman was playing at. Finally, with a nod, the PC Judge intoned; "I'll allow it."

With that, Cartman turned away from the court of his peers, away from the public, and focused on a singular target; Kyle.

"If the prosecution could enlighten me, _how_ exactly were you able to gain access to the files in Ms. Lehman's home?"

… _well, that's certainly a question._ Kyle glanced over to Dee, who also could do little more than offer a helpless shrug. Kyle, aware that he was on his own, got up out of his chair to respond. "The plaintiff received a packet of copies from an anonymous drop, told it was a warning."

 _That's the story, anyhow. The case would be kinda moot if everyone knew Kenny and I **stole** the evidence. _

"Ah, I see, I see, so, the documents that incriminate my client were just _given_ to your client?" Cartman questioned, eyebrows raised as his tone turned from innocent questioning to _patronizing._ "By an individual who refuses to be named?"

"That's what anonymous usually means, yeah." Kyle responded, not sure where Cartman was going with this.

"So, and _please_ correct me if I'm wrong, would it have been possible for this anonymous person to have _altered_ these files?"

"... _excuse me?"_ Kyle questioned.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I can talk a little _fast_ sometimes- _would it have been_ _ **possible**_ _for someone to change the files to say whatever they wanted?_ In order to incriminate my client, would the anonymous _do-gooder_ who passed this packet along have had the opportunity to _change_ perfectly innocent files into records that appeared much more menacing?"

Kyle glanced at Dee again, this was a terrible line of questioning, and they weren't even past opening statements. Technically there wasn't supposed to _be_ any questioning at this point- but there was Cartman, always breaking the goddamned rules.

" _That's not what happened-"_

"I would appreciate the court to direct the prosecution to answer the question _yes_ or _no!"_ Cartman crowed over Kyle's voice.

The PC Judge's face had twisted- he didn't like this either, but he'd already allowed it. He couldn't take it back just because he didn't like the questions Cartman had decided to ask. "Mr. Broflovski, please answer the question _yes_ or _no."_

 _This isn't fucking fair! The fact that we said it was an anonymous drop means **of course** the files could have been altered- we would have no idea how long the documents were in that hypothetical person's hands! **Goddamnit Cartman!**_

"... _yes."_ Kyle answered reluctant. "I suppose that would have been possible."

With _that,_ Cartman turned towards the jury with a _flourish,_ holding his hands out to either side like the angel of mercy from so many Catholic stained glass windows... but also a show that he was utterly in control, both of himself and what was happening here. He didn't shake. He didn't have to hold his own hands. "My client, dear people, finds herself in the unfortunate position of being framed by a particularly _able_ villain who has chosen not to show his face- I fear the prosecution and his client are simply the pawns in a larger game, and we, _the people,_ are the balance they seek to tip against my client. While it is true that my client does keep detailed records on a number of her previous students, and all of those students happen to be _male,_ the only thing she is guilty of is taking an interest in their lives beyond the schoolyard- and really, isn't that the description of the _perfect_ teacher? The one who cares about more than the standardized test scores, or getting through one more day? The one who takes an _interest,_ who _cares_ about her students from the day they enter her classroom, to the day they graduate?"

 _Oh, she fuckin' cares all right- in all the wrong fucking ways you cocked up asswipe._

"I've been tasked with protecting this _paragon_ of education from the coward who would manipulate the record and accuse her of taking advantage of her students. I have no doubt that the prosecution does truly believe they are doing the _right_ thing, but they've failed to allow themselves to doubt their own _self-righteousness._ They've given themselves a noble cause and demanded that they achieve it, all without asking the most important question- _why_ would that anonymous person pass a packet of private, _stolen_ records into the hands of a student? So, to the jury, I ask that you hold that question in your mind- ask the question: _'Why?'"_

 _The humming had stopped._ The muttering, the whispering, the mob of people that had been _so certain_ upon entering this room... suddenly was not. No, _doubt_ had crept in, and with it came _silence_ and _tension._

 _I swear to all that is holy, Cartman, if Lehman walks I_ _ **will kill you.**_ Dee glared across the room as Cartman thanked the room and returned to his seat. She glared with the force of a thousand suns, fists clenched in her lap.

Ms. Lehman looked across to her, and the pair of them met eyes. The teacher smiled.

Dee felt sick.

Cartman didn't sit down. He remained standing as he got back to his desk- a signal that he wasn't done. Now that he had addressed the jury and the people, he chose this time to address the _judge._ "Your Honor, I would like to move to have the so-called _recovered files_ removed from evidence, on the grounds that they were _falsified_ with the express purpose of framing my client. And, without evidence, I would very much like to have all charges _dropped_ so we can all go home."

 _Pushing it, Cartman... you haven't_ _ **proven**_ _they were fake, just that they_ _ **could**_ _be._

"Motion denied." The PC Judge responded without a moment's hesitation. " _Doubt_ in the documents does not change that they _exist._ The jury may interpret them as they please, but they remain in the evidence record."

 _That_ was a blow. Cartman didn't look happy, but he accepted the PC Judge's denial with a nod and sat down. Apparently he was going to bide his time and pick a different battle.

 _Suck it you fat fucker._ Dee couldn't help being a little _vengeful_ in her thoughts. More than that, however, she was _hopeful._ Cartman's attempt to end this quickly told her that he didn't feel fully confident about the rest of the trial; about his ability to convince a _whole town_ of angry people that this woman wasn't guilty... likely due to his lack of time to prepare a better argument or manipulate people around it.

 _Fuck,_ he was like Batman but with petty manipulation; give him enough time and he could accomplish _anything._ She supposed she should have been thankful that the PC Super made this all happen as fast as possible.

 _Still, this shit show isn't over yet._

"With that, let's begin with the prosecution calling its first witness..."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

WELL THAT CHAPTER HAPPENED ALL AT ONCE.

I'm feelin' the momentum, so let's keep it going.

[Also yes, Ms. Lehman's initials are A.S.L- a reference to the Age Sex Location question that gets asked in all the worst chat rooms. That was intentional]

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	12. Testimony Part 1

**:: I Need an Adult – Testimony [Part 1]::**

Dee didn't _want_ to sit on the witness stand, but it didn't change the fact that she _had_ to. The burden of proof fell on the prosecution, after all; Kyle would have looked like a fool if he didn't call her first. The school councilor, Ms. Misty, presented a bible for her to swear upon, and she agreed to the vow with a silent nod before withdrawing her hand and taking a seat in the chair that set next to the PC Judge's upraised platform.

"I would like the court to note that it is my client's personal choice not to speak; as such, he will only be willing to indicate _yes_ or _no_ answers, which should be entered into the record."

 _Who was keeping the record? Probably Wendy, with some tech wizardry. She's always been damn good at that. That or someone else is scribbling this all down and I just haven't seen them._

"Noted." The PC Judge affirmed stiffly.

Kyle nodded, approaching where Dee sat at the witness stand and giving her a _look_ that couldn't believe he was doing this, but had to carry it out anyway. They were leading with their weakest act, so to speak, and hopefully it would lull Cartman into a false sense of security. If the kid had any more _tricks,_ the hope was to encourage overconfidence and get him to tip his hand early. "Dee, would you confirm for me that the woman here, the defendant, is your first hour science teacher, Ms. Lehman?"

 _Yep._ A short nod, Dee found this just as silly as he did, but it was part of the game.

"When you first began her class on the first day of school, did Ms. Lehman pay any special attention to you? Did she seem to _notice_ you more than other students?"

 _Nope._ A shake of the head, simple and short. _I was just another one of the crowd. No doubt she was still assessing possible targets._

"So she was just a teacher to you?"

 _Not quite..._ Dee's expression changed, a frown forming as she actually shook her head no.

" _N-no?"_ This wasn't part of the script, so to speak, but they hadn't exactly practiced as much as Kyle had with Kevin. His testimony was considered more important, or at least more _user friendly._ "She _wasn't_ just a teacher to you? … what was she...?"

Her brow came down, and she gestured with her hands as if to allude to something monstrous _,_ greater than oneself. In an example of a sort of _faux sign,_ she dropped that and mirrored her own response to Ms. Lehman in crossing her arms over her chest and holding her own shoulders. _She was fucking scary, dude. On the first day she threatened Cartman and sounded like she **wanted** him to misbehave just so she could punish him. _

"I _see,_ you found Ms. Lehman... _intimidating?"_

A vigorous nod. _Yes, extremely._

"Frightening?"

 _Oh fuck yes. She was fucking terrifying, and I didn't get **why.** Just a gut feeling. _More nodding, with a grimace. She felt a ripple of energy in the people around her; everyone in the front row seemed to _feel_ what she was mentally 'talking' about, their faces twisting along with hers. It was a sort of _infectious..._ projected empathy? That was turning the mood of the room. The _doubt_ that Cartman had interjected suddenly had to contend with the fact that people looked at her and _knew_ how frightened she'd been of Ms. Lehman. Somewhere between facial expression and something more _intangible_ than that, her silent pantomime was getting through to the onlookers.

"So when Ms. Lehman approached you, you were already afraid of her. Is that correct?"

 _Yes._ Her head followed along with the affirmation in her head, remembering the feeling that had coursed through her at that time- from getting her paper handed back to her telling her she needed to meet the teacher she found the most intimidating, to the exchange that had followed after the fact. _I could feel her authority over me, and how willing she was to use it._

"I'm to understand that Ms. Lehman offered to mentor you, help you gain certain _advantages_ in life, even change the grades of you and your friends if you agreed. Is that correct?"

The whispering was picking up again as Dee nodded; people were talking once more, and the buzz seemed to be boosting Kyle's confidence.

"And, of _course,_ she gave you the option to say no to her?"

 _Hell no. She threatened to kick me out of school._ Dee's face turned angry, the raw rage bubbling up in her as she smartly shook her head no. Something about being the focus of _so many people_ made her aware of more than just their _reactions,_ she felt _energy_ from them. Was that just part of the room, to feel the _mood_ of so many people in one place? Or was that _her?_ Was this the part of her that was special, interacting with the _mob energy_ that existed in the people of South Park? She didn't know, but she found it _thrilling._

"No." Kyle confirmed what he already knew about the case so far, that _no_ choice had been given. "She threatened you, as I understand. She told you that if you said _no,_ you'd be out of school; that if you didn't do what she wanted, she would simply _get rid of you._ Is that right?"

 _Yep._ Dee's gaze had changed. She wasn't looking out at the people anymore- she was looking at Ms. Lehman... who also appeared able to _feel_ the energy of the room. Mainly, how it had _turned against her._ Her posture had narrowed, shoulders drawing in as she began to _compact_ into a thin pillar that crumbled upon her seat. Confident posture curved downward as more and more angry eyes focused upon the back of her head from the rest of the gym, and it was in meeting _Dee's_ eyes that she seemed to realize, finally, _she'd fucked with the wrong kid._

"How did that make you feel?" Kyle asked, beginning to pick up that Dee had more for him than simple answers of _yes_ and _no._ The non-verbal stuff might not have gotten entered into the record, but she was clearly having an _effect..._ and that made him bolder in asking a question that wasn't so thoroughly _staged._

 _Fucking betrayed. An authority figure, someone I was supposed to trust, gave me an unfair ultimatum and told me to make a choice before I could begin to understand it. I was offered benefits most kids could only dream of, power over my fellow students, but refusal carried the price of scholastic **death.** I was manipulated and terrified- and then I tried to tell myself it was **okay.**_

 _ **I tried to tell myself it was okay.**_

The expression she wore started out so _angry,_ brows furrowed and her lips forming a deeply carved line that twisted her whole face. Then, as she remembered what she did to herself, _how she tried to convince herself it was alright when it wasn't..._ she remembered the horrible feeling of being so intensely _vulnerable,_ and it _got_ to her. Teeth clenched, and she had to drop her head down to look at her own knees before screwing her eyes shut.

Part of her wanted to cry. _She had to fight that._

" _Oh, shit, sorry dude..."_ Kyle's voice had dropped into a whisper as he stepped closer to the stand, sharing a private word that wasn't projected to the crowd. _"Damnit, I didn't realize it was_ _ **that**_ _raw... hang in there, we're almost done, okay?"_

She nodded, but her head remained bent. She wasn't sure if she was ready to raise it up again- what would people think of her, getting teary in front of the whole town? _Fucking lizards dancing the polka on Satan's left nipple, this is pathetic._

"As you can see," Kyle projected once more, turning to face both jury and public audience, "My client is _distraught-_ this is the effects of coercion; the unethical persuasion of an individual to do something they do not want to do. Ms. Lehman offered my client a chance to be her personal _pet_ or be _expelled,_ and left my client with effectively _no choice at all._ This treatment is more than _wrong,_ it shows that Ms. Lehman had something to gain by my client being _afraid_ and _isolated,_ too scared to possibly communicate to friends what was going on."

" _Objection!"_ Cartman cried out at this point. "Prosecution is assuming a point of view for the witness!"

"Sustained." The PC Judge answered back. "Mr. Broflovski, stick to what your witness has directly established."

Dee's head came up again- _anger_ was a good way to get past the desire to cry, and _man oh fucking man_ was she pissed at Cartman. She could _glower_ down at him and keep her head on straight, even if her face was flushed to fuck.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry." Kyle responded quickly, thankful to see Dee was back in the game. "Dee, did you try to tell your friends what was happening?"

 _No, I didn't. I was scared and angry and unsure- I wanted to figure it out for myself. Kenny had to **corner** me. _

"And it was that this point that you received the packet of documents from the anonymous person at the park?"

 _Yeah, that's the story. In truth I realized I was being manipulated and decided to fight the fuck back, but yeah, let's stick with the anon thing._

"And once you realized that you weren't alone, that you were not the only victim, you knew you had to speak up?"

 _Yep._ One last nod, particularly pointed.

"Members of the jury, you've been provided with copies of this packet of documents, which has been entered into evidence. These same documents were found by the police in Ms. Lehman's home, within a locked file cabinet, after she'd been taken into custody." Kyle turned to the jury at this time, addressing them directly while papers shuffled, people his own age now looking through pages of bank records... and photographs of the most obscene sort. "These documents are provided in _mostly_ original form, with some mild editing to the photographs, as they are of a pornographic nature. Even with the blurring, I am certain you can recognize what my witness recognized; young boys committing sexual acts with a teacher. Acts they were _incapable_ of giving consent to, due to the power-imbalance between teacher and student, and the fact that they were all underage. Each and every one of these boys went to this very school at some time, and attended Ms. Lehman's class. _They all also got perfect A's_ in her science class, despite some of them having _poor_ school performance before being in her class."

Some faces on the jury were impressed with the photos- mostly the boys. The girls were disgusted, flipping through them quickly and then turning away... only to peek back a moment later, as if to see if it really was a repugnant as they thought.

"Also in these files, you will find _bank records,_ statements relaying the income of some of the pictured boys, as well as markings in pen as to what percentage _is owed._ There are also print-outs of e-mail correspondence, as if Ms. Lehman were keeping meticulous record of what threats she'd made to whom for how much- all the threats involve the photos taken of these boys, some of them now young men with promising careers, accompanied with _demands_ that they keep paying her not to release said photos to the people they care about- romantic partners, spouses, bosses, along with reminders _not to tell anyone._ What my client was experiencing was the first step in a cycle Ms. Lehman had repeated _many_ times, grooming a victim to be under her complete control, obtaining scandalous photos of that victim, and then asserting herself whenever it benefits her most later in that victim's life. And the worst part of it?"

Kyle swept his hands outwards, towards everyone assembled. The jury, the audience, every _kid_ in that gym or watching the broadcast was now who he wanted to speak to. Every _boy_ who was listening. "It could have been _any one of us_ this year. _Any_ boy could have struck Ms. Lehman's perverse fancy this year. It could have been _me,_ it could have been _you..._ but it's not. It's _him."_ Kyle pointed back to Dee, indicating the true victim with conviction. "And if he hadn't said something _this year,_ it could have been a little brother next year, a cousin, a nephew, a _son-"_

" _Objection! Relevance!"_ Cartman screeched while jumping up from his bench- he didn't like where Kyle was going. Worse, he hated that he was _connecting_ with people. Boys on the jury were looking uncomfortable, glancing towards Ms. Lehman and frowning deeply as they once again looked at the pictures and suddenly didn't seem quite so impressed anymore.

" _Relevance?!"_ Kyle barked back at Cartman. "Look _around,_ dude- the relevance is that you're defending a pedo who could have just as easily picked _you_ to be her target. If I were you, I wouldn't feel so safe _sitting_ next to her."

"Sustained!" The PC Judge shouted over the top, banging a gavel he'd not seen fit to use since the trial began, but the crowd was beginning to get a little _unruly._ People were shifting in their seats, and the buzzing had not waned in the slightest. "Mr. Cartman, Mr. Broflovski, you will maintain order between yourselves or your clients will represent themselves."

 _I wouldn't mind that, if we can do it **death match** style. Just let me kick the crap out of her on local TV, that would work for me. _

At the suggestion that Cartman could have been her victim, Ms. Lehman visibly _cringed,_ glancing over to the fat teen next to her as he consented to sit down once more.

"Yes, of course Your Honor, I'm sorry." Kyle responded with a little humbling hand-waving, though he still stole one last glare back at Cartman. "Let's get back to something _relevant._ Dee, in the days leading up to this trial, is it true that you received an e-mail from Ms. Lehman of a _personal_ nature?"

 _Personal is one way to put it, she sent me a picture of her tits covered in cream._ A short nod, almost _sarcastic_ in its quality.

"If the jury would please refer to the blue folder provided to them." Kyle instructed, moving on to a direct piece of evidence. "This photograph was sent to my client, unsolicited; a sexualized photo of Ms. Lehman's breasts, sent from her _school e-mail account._ A photo _designed_ to get my client to _lust_ after Ms. Lehman, despite the fact that she held power over him. I present this to the court as evidence of direct manipulation, and sexual harassment."

" _Objection!"_ Cartman was up on his feet again, a few beads of sweat beginning to appear on his brow. Between the heat and the energetic movements, this appeared to be work-out for him. The full suit wasn't helping. "How is a _boob pic_ sexual harassment?"

"The same way a _dick pic is,_ you _fat moron!"_

It wasn't Kyle who cried out this time, but someone in the crowd- Dee didn't see the speaker, but it sounded like a girl had shouted out. Other voices were joining her, leading the PC Judge to beat his gavel down several more times.

" _Order in the court! I WILL have this room cleared!"_ He threatened, shouting over the noise until the rabbeling of the mob cut off with the chance of dismissal outweighing the desire to shout and grumble.

"I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honor." Kyle excused himself, returning to his bench and clearing the floor with a certain _smile_ on his face that was tallying up the little victories he hadn't expected to score with his first witness.

"Mr. Cartman, you have the opportunity to cross-examine this witness. Do you have any questions at this time?"

 _Eye contact_ was made between Dee and Cartman; Cartman, calculating what he could _gain_ by needling Dee... and Dee, _glaring_ at Cartman and daring him to _just fucking try it._

"Not at this time, Your Honor."

 _Biding his time again- what do you have **planned,** Cartman? If you try to get evidence thrown out again... _

"Then the prosecution may call its next witness. Mr. Broflovski?"

"Thank you, Your Honor." Kyle stood up once more. "The prosecution would like to call Kevin McCormick to the stand."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

I was considering using this space to explain _exactly_ how **I** feel Dee's powers work to y'all, particularly in this offline scenario, but I decided not to. The joy of good fiction is the ability of the reader to construct their own picture and understand how things are working with the information the story has provided them. If I pull back the curtain, it takes all the fun out of it. :3

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	13. Testimony Part 2

**:: I Need an Adult – Testimony [Part 2]::**

There was a cry of _'WHAT?!'_ somewhere near the back of the gym- was that Kenny and Kevin's mom? It sounded like her, protesting the idea that her eldest son was somehow _involved_ in all of this. She wasn't the only one to express surprise; Cartman apparently didn't know about this either... which was exactly the _point_ of getting Kevin... that and Dee hadn't been a _full victim_ of Ms. Lehman. She acted before things got that bad. But Kevin? His taking the stand would lend credence to just how ugly all of this _got._

Of course, with the crowded room, Dee didn't _see_ Kevin, nor any indication that he was approaching the stand right away. There was murmuring in the crowd; was their witness missing? Had he chosen not to testify? Then, just as Dee began to think Kevin had _ditched_ them, there was a parting of the crowd near the back. It was the most packed part of the gym, where everyone was standing because there was no more room for chairs. This clump of people moved this way, that cluster moved that way, and finally a short path appeared to allow approach to the narrow aisle made between the rows of fold-out chairs that accommodated the closer observers. Into this precious space... emerged Kevin. He was dressed much the same way as the day before, though it appeared he may have taken the time to wash and brush his hair.

It was with a sigh of _relief_ that Dee stepped down from the stand, making way for him. The way she saw it, she may have _evened the odds_ against Cartman's accusation that all their evidence was bunk... but Kevin?

He was the play that was going to put them over the top.

Kevin's walk up the aisle was a _nervous_ one; the look on his face didn't want to be there, but he'd chosen to come all the same. Dee was just taking her seat at the bench as he made it to the front, an ocean of whispers behind him as he approached the stand and was presented the same bible Ms. Misty had presented to Dee. Confused, he looked at it as if he wasn't sure at first, and put his left hand on it before the diminutive councilor corrected him to put his _right_ hand on the book and swear the oath to tell _The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God._

" _So help me God."_ Kevin responded, but it really sounded more like a sarcastic _grumble_ than an oath.

" _I TAUGHT YOU TO SAY YOUR WORDS BETTER THAN THAT!"_

Another shout from the very back of the gym, no doubt his mother critiquing the way he was conducting himself. Kevin's head wrenched around, something _vicious_ no doubt already between his teeth, but the banging of the gavel beat him to it.

" _Order in the court!"_ The PC Judge demanded before the mob could get whipped up again, nodding to Kevin that his oath was acceptable and signaling him to take the stand. Once he was in place, Kyle approached the stand.

"Mr. McCormick, would you please confirm for me that three years ago, you were attending South Park Middle school?"

"Yeah." Responded the cagey teen, looking left and right as they got through the stupid establishing questions.

"And you were in Ms. Lehman's science class?"

"Yeah, uh... fourth hour. Right after lunch."

"And what was your first impression of Ms. Lehman?" Kyle quested, following very much the same line he had with Dee, though he didn't have to put nearly as many words into Kevin's mouth.

" _Scary._ On the first day some kid mouthed off to her, and she threatened to call the police to take him away if he didn't settle down. _Shut him right the fuck up."_

 _Sounds familiar- does Ms. Lehman make it a point to do that every year to let kids know just how serious she is? How quick she is to resort to extreme disciplinary action?_

"'Mouthed off to her'- could you describe what exactly it was this student did?" Kyle pressed for further detail.

"He, uh... I think he just said something about how it was a _waste_ that she was wearing a turtle neck? Yeah, he commented on her rack, but he wasn't as _quiet_ as he should have been, and she threatened to call the police and have him removed for that kind of harassment. It was a _stupid fucking comment,_ and she was ready to call the fuckin' cops. He apologized, and then class went on pretty normal for a few weeks."

"A few weeks." Kyle parroted back. "And what happened after a few weeks that made class _not so normal?"_

Kevin shifted in his seat. So far his testimony had been pretty basic, but now it was time to move into the hard stuff. Dee couldn't help looking at him and seeing the fact that he and Kenny had very similar eyes- the same color blue, the same level of _expression_ that could be achieved. Everyone looking at him, even the construction of the stand, it made him feel _trapped._ She could feel it coming off of him, the sense of an animal backed up into a corner, but still attempting to engage because there was something he _wanted_ out of all this.

"Well... uh, I wasn't exactly the _perfect student."_ He admitted in a grumble. "I liked to cut class after lunch, and when I _did_ show up, uh... stuff I say up here isn't gonna get me in trouble, is it?"

"You're not on trial right now, Kevin, Ms. Lehman is." Kyle assured.

"... sometimes I'd have booze at school. Ms. Lehman caught me with it, out back, and I'm sure she's gonna start _screaming_ at me and tell me I'm going to get expelled- but instead she offers to _mentor_ me, put me on the _right fuckin' path_ or some shit. And- and I guess I just didn't wanna deal with shit at home, how much people would scream at me if I got expelled or suspended, so I went for it. She said I could cut class as much as I wanted and still get an A, all I had to do was do whatever she asked _after school."_

"And what _did_ she ask for, after school?"

"At first, it was really simple shit- she asked me over to her apartment and went over the lessons I missed when I cut class. I guess it was nice? Like private tutoring, but I didn't have to pay. Then sometimes she'd ask me to pick shit up for her, like she had an order at some place or another and she'd ask me to bring it to her place. She gave me a key, so I could come and go once I started doing errands for her, and then this one time I... uh, yeah, she gave me money and sent me to get groceries for her, and when I got back she was just _hanging out in her kitchen in a towel,_ no big deal. She thanks me for the help, tells me to keep the change, and her towel falls off and she's just... _there,_ naked, and she doesn't bother to cover up or _nothing._ She sees me starin', giggles, and tells me to go home, that she'll call me the next day."

 _A boyhood fantasy._ Dee could imagine it, and how easily any other kid might have fallen for it. A flirty, naughty teacher who starts out as a concerned adult and morphs into an object of extreme desire through a number of carefully planned tactics... and if a kid gets wise? That's fine, she already has all the leverage she needs to keep them quiet. Even as Kevin described it, there were flickers of positive feeling on his face, memories of how _excited_ he had probably been in that moment. There were parts of him that had thought _this is my idea, I chased her, she didn't make me._

Conflict interrupted, and his brows came down as he _looked_ at the woman at the defense bench. He hadn't looked at her this whole time, _avoided_ that part of the room with his gaze, mostly looking at Kyle, or glancing out to the jury.

"She did. I went. We... uh... _did... stuff..."_

"You had intimate relations?" Kyle summed up in a more _clinical_ manner.

"Yeah, _that._ I thought I had it pretty fuckin' _good,_ havin' a teacher who wanted to do all these favors for me, and she was fuckin' _hot,_ too, but... I donno, she didn't like the people I hung out with, she said they were going to drag me down. Next she wants me to give up drinking, and I figure _she's just trying to fix my life,_ so I do it for a while, but next it's _volunteer programs,_ and shit I don't _care_ about, and pushing for a summer job, and asking what I'm going to _do_ when I get older, that she doesn't... uh... _doesn't mentor charity cases,_ that she wanted to get something _back_ for all the work she'd done. Well, I told her to _fuck the fuck off,_ and the next thing I know, she's threatening to send these pictures _I didn't even know she took_ to my family, my girlfriend, says she'll even send it to the police and say that _I raped her,_ and... if I didn't start paying her _soon,_ she'd find a way to get her _value_ out of me, one way or another. T-that..."

Kevin paused. He had to take a breath.

"That _no one would care if I disappeared. I'm too poor for anyone to care."_

 _Holy shit, that's just a sick thing to say- what was she planning to do? Hire someone to fucking steal his kidneys? Or was that just a scare tactic? With this bitch, it's fucking hard to tell._

"For the record, have these threats been ongoing?"

" _Fuck, man,_ the whole 'I'm going to tell the police you raped me' was just a fuckin' month ago." Kevin spat.

"And to be perfectly clear, you _never consented_ to have any photographs taken of you?"

"No!" Kevin snapped, getting more and more agitated. His teeth were grinding together in-between words, and his hands had landed on his knees, fingers digging into his ratty jeans.

Kyle nodded, taking no pleasure in this line of questioning. No, he wore a grim face for this. "For the record, Kevin, would you please state your age?"

"... uh... yeah, I'm seventeen."

 _Just in case anyone forgot he's **still** a minor. _

"I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honor." Kyle reported, turning sharply to return to his own bench. Kevin looked like he desperately wanted to _escape;_ both the stand and the scrutiny of _so many eyes._ Some people were whispering to one another, but the majority stood in silence. The jury looked on with the sort of stare that had not expected to gain such a _detailed_ account of the manipulation that had gone into Ms. Lehman's _work-_ the records of which they still had in their hands. Dee had to hope that those files, pages of bank records and secret photographs, began to take on a certain measure of _life_ in their minds; that each file, each _name_ began to represent an individual to her peers. A _person,_ just like Kevin, who had been entrapped and tempted into something so incredibly _wrong._

Even if Ms. Lehman had improved his life in certain aspects, what she had done to him was still a crime.

"Mr. Cartman, would you like to cross-examine the witness?" Like others, the PC Super Judge looked _sickened_ by what he'd just heard, and it was directed at Ms. Lehman, even as he addressed the boy who had decided to defend her. Still, he was bound by the process; he himself had said this was going to be a _fair_ trial, and that meant he couldn't just _skip steps_ because he wanted to hop straight to the end where the extortionist pedo got punished.

"Yes, Your Honor, thank you."

 _What?_

Dee's head twisted, watching as Cartman pulled his bulk up from the bench and approached the witness stand. Kevin was looking at him the same way a half-starved dog might have looked at an aggressive stranger; with the desire to _lash out_ and _run._

"Mr. McCormick, your attorney seems rather bent on the concept of _consent._ Just one more time for the people in the back, would you remind me that you _never_ consented for my client to take _any_ photographs of you? Of any nature?"

Kevin's face twisted in confusion, his head cocking. Dee didn't get it either; where was Cartman going with this?

"No, I never did. I guess she has one of those _hidden camera things_ in her room or some shit, snapping photos of the boys she does things with-"

"Yes, yes, _thank you._ So, would it be fair to say that your feelings about these photos are _negative?"_

"What the _fuck_ do you think, you little turd?"

"The defense would thank the court to instruct the witness to answer _yes or no!"_ Cartman once again cried, though he didn't turn his head up towards the judge. No, he was focused on Kevin, staring evenly at him without fear or intimidation.

"Yes or no, Mr. McCormick."

"... yeah, I'd say they're pretty negative."

"Would you be willing to say your feelings about these photos would be similar of anyone else who had their pictures taken in this fashion?" Cartman went on to ask. "Without their knowledge, without their _consent?"_ He stressed that word, now. As many times as Kyle had pushed the concept, now _he_ was pushing on it with that sickly sweet tone that only Cartman seemed to be able to achieve.

"I would fucking figure as much- Ms. Lehman has been using those photos to keep me an' the other guys in her _fucking pocket_ for _years-_ I imagine the ones who have been stuck with it longer are even more pissed off than I am."

"And the fact that your photographs, and the photos of everyone else involved- are now part of a public trial?"

" _Objection!"_ Kyle cried out. "What is the relevance to this line of questioning, Your Honor?" He demanded, standing up from his bench and gesturing with angry motions towards Cartman.

" _You_ were pushing on consent, _KEYL!"_ Cartman snapped, rounding towards the prosecution bench with a vengeance. "What about all the boys who aren't here? The ones who couldn't make it back to South Park because this ' _trial'_ was put on in such a rush?!"

"I _see what you're doing, fatass,_ and it isn't fair!"

The dreaded banging of the gavel came once more, the PC Super standing up in his chair to look down at both boys. " _Order in the court, bros!"_ He snapped, conflict showing on his face. Dee could tell- he _didn't_ know where Cartman was going with this, but Kyle sensed danger and wanted it to go no further... _but_ Cartman had the right of it. Kyle had pushed on the consent concept a _lot_ during his examination of the witness- he had the right to this line of questioning.

After a second more of hesitation, the Judge sat back down and, with an _exhausted_ tone, said "Overruled- Mr. Cartman, the witness will answer the question."

" _No-!"_ Kyle hissed under his breath, still standing at his bench. His body had gone ridged, terrified of something that Dee didn't quite understand yet. Why was it so bad that Cartman as pushing on the consent thing? Wasn't he just _making his own case worse?_

"Thank you, Your Honor." Cartman took on a too-pleased smile. "Mr. McCormick?"

"I... guess they'd be pissed that these private photos were put on public display without their say-so."

" _Of course they would."_ Cartman dribbled in the most _saccharine_ voice, cooing sympathy. "And why not? Why, isn't it a _legal right_ in the US that your picture or video not be taken without your permission? That would mean _all_ of these photographs were obtained _illegally,_ without the consent of the subjects in them, and should not be subject to _any_ kind of viewing without their consent!"

 _Oh fuck._

Dee finally got where he was going- another attempt to get rid of evidence, and it sounded pretty solid this time. If there was anything the PC Superintendent _loved,_ it was _motherfucking consent._

" _YOUR HONOR!"_ Cartman announced at the top of his lungs. "None of these photographs have been submitted _properly,_ and I move to have all photos containing _non-consenting_ minors to be _removed_ from the evidence for this case!"

Dee wasn't sure where to look- at the _grin_ on Cartman's face, or the look of _conflict_ on the PC Super's. The man had taken off his sunglasses for the first time during this trial, a look of horrified _dread_ pasted onto him as he contended with the fact that _this was partially his fault for rushing the trial as fast as possible._

 _Fuck, fuck,_ _ **fuck,**_ _Cartman has him._

"... Sustained. Photographs containing non-consenting subjects will be removed from the evidence record."

The PC Super sounded like a dead man- a numb tone that was utterly absent from the words that escaped his mouth. Somehow, he'd been twisted up by a fucking _kid_ in a court where he aspired to be the true and fair judge... but his values prevented him from simply _handing down judgment_ upon an obviously guilty woman. The legal system wasn't just _in the way,_ he was _part_ of it. The look on his face was more than distraught; it was _broken._

"Furthermore, the court will take a recess. We will re-convene in one hour."

At the last bang of a gavel, people began moving towards the doors to get out of the too-hot gym. Dee found herself stunned, sitting at her bench with Kyle, staring off into space and wondering how in the world they were somehow going to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Kevin, too eager to be _gone,_ shot out from the witness stand and _dashed_ for the doors- not the ones to the cafeteria, but the ones that led _outside._ He'd lost all confidence, and was getting the hell out.

In all of this movement, all of this _departure,_ Cartman approached the prosecution's bench and delicately placed his fat fingertips upon the surface like a gloating super villain.

" _Well,_ guys? Still happy you let a fucking _Jew_ lead the prosecution?"

Kyle's look of shock slaked, and his teeth came together as fingers folded into fists. He was beyond _angry,_ this was _red-hot rage._

Dee reached up, taking Kyle's shoulder- it broke his focus on Cartman and got him to look at her, where she shook her head. _Now's not the time, the trial isn't over yet._

Still looking away from Cartman, Kyle finally said out of gritted teeth; "The defense and the prosecution aren't supposed to talk during recesses. Get back to your client."

"Are you _kidding?_ I don't want to spend an extra minute with that fucking rapist that I don't have to- _naaaah,_ I've got better things to do right now. See ya for the verdict, you _fucking losers! Hehehee."_

"I swear to God, I am going to kill him." Kyle stated blankly. He wasn't talking to Dee anymore. His eyes had unfocused, staring into unseen oblivion. He remained in that state, even as Dee stood up from her chair. It wasn't until she grabbed him again, this time by the shoulder, and shook him that he returned to earth and recognized that she was giving him one of her _looks._

Specifically, her jaw had set and her lips had gone thin. Determined eyes had made a decision, and it almost made her look _calm_ in the face of everything.

 _No, you're not._ It said. _Because I'm going to._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _HOO BOY!_

Okay, assuming I don't find any other twists along the way, I think we are legit two chapters MAX from being done with this story, one for resolution, one for aftermath... but, y'know, I've managed to stretch shit out before, so don't quote me.

 _Oh and hubby and I might have found a house, we're filling out the application to rent today._

 _-Buttlord_


	14. Intervention

**:: I Need an Adult – Intervention::**

Dee had no hesitation in going after Cartman. She was up and away from the bench, following him out of the gym and quick-stepping to catch up with him. The fat boy, confident in his victory, didn't seem to realize he was being _stalked,_ blithely passing through the gymnasium doors to enter the cafeteria where bare-bones refreshments of coffee, juice, and cheap cookies were being handed out to attendees who cared to take part. No doubt he wanted something to eat, _cause when the fuck didn't he?_ But Dee had other plans for him. Just as he began to step to join the line and probably talk his way to the front of it, she caught up with him and _snatched him by the arm,_ dragging his impressive bulk the other direction- towards the bathrooms.

"What the- _what the fu- Mmmph!"_

 _Can't keep your mouth shut for one goddamned minute, can you, you son of a bitch?_ Dee was prepared for him to begin _wailing_ the moment realized he was getting dragged away, yanking him closer by the arm for her other hand to land rather squarely over his mouth and hush him the fuck up. She felt him _bite_ into her palm as she continued to drag him, but didn't really care; she was too pissed off to feel pain, too _high on adrenaline_ to care how much this _child wearing a teenager's body kicked and tried to call for help._ How did he get to this age and still manage to be so _pathetic?_ Moving his weight was the hardest part of dragging him along, even as he attempted to dig his heels in. He just had _zero muscle._

Arrival at the boy's bathroom had her shifting her grip, taking her hand away from his face and shoving him ahead of her, pushing the door open with his body. She was right behind him, kicking the swinging portal shut again and planting herself in front of it. Assured that she'd cut off his means of escape from this room, she let go of his arm and _pushed_ with all the frustration that had gathered up in her during the trial. The jolt of both hands against his back sent him _sprawling._

"What the _HELL, DOUCHEBAG?!"_ Cartman bellowed, managing to catch himself with his hands as he almost took a tumble all the way to the floor. His suit was ruffled, the tie his mother had no doubt picked out for him coming loose of the jacket and hanging. With his head twisted to look at her over his shoulder, he _glared._ "What, you don't like how well I'm doing, so you're gonna fucking beat me up in the bathroom? How the hell is that fucking _fair?!"_

 _Dude, I fucking wish I could do this that easily. If this was just another problem I could solve by beating the hell out of you, I'd already be doing it. Sadly, I've gotta take a_ _ **different**_ _approach this time._

"You can stand there and _stare_ at me all you want, Douchebag, I'm not going to take it easy on Kyle just because you're fucking gay as shit for his ginger ass. So what? You gonna stuff my head in the toilet, fuck up my suit, what are we doing here? C'mon, I don't have all _god-damned day!_ "

 _He was still crowing,_ and no one had come out of any of the stalls to investigate- Dee could safely assume they were _alone._ With her feet planted and her arms crossed over her chest, she finally decided the best course of action. As much as she _wished_ that was beating him within an inch of his life, that would accomplish nothing. The trail wasn't over, and Cartman was still part of the proceedings. Like it or not, _she still needed him._

"I'm _talking_ to you."

He'd been faced away from her, straightening his tie and trying to smooth out his suit. He'd looked down, fussing over the details, even as he was discussing how she might beat the living hell out of him. Now? Now he froze, and then turned. Head first, body following after, feet finally falling into place as he tried to _comprehend._

"Oh. Oh _no you don't,_ Douchebag- I don't have time for your _trolling bullshit_ right now- that's fucking psychological warfare, and you can take that shit and stick it up your-"

"This isn't a joke this time, asshole." She responded firmly, anger dropping her voice down at least an octave. She was too _pissed_ with him to fucking troll him. It was in her inflection, the kind of energy that made it _shake_ with how hard it was to _contain_ herself. _Rage_ didn't even _begin_ to cover it. "You crossed a fucking line, _you fat fuck-_ I'm _sick of your shit,_ and part of me wouldn't mind just- just- straight up _murdering_ you right now."

Eyebrows up, mouth open, _pure, stupefied shock._ What Eric assumed would be yet another one of her pranks, where she'd say a few words to him and then shut up again to fuck with him, was turning out to be something _so much more serious._ He stepped back. She, in instant response to given ground, stepped forward. Arms came down from across her chest, and fists clenched at her sides as she bore down upon him.

"H-He—heh, that's- that's _funny_ Douchebag, really, it is- I mean, you wouldn't actually... uh... I mean, not at _skewl,_ right?"

"What makes you think I haven't killed you once or twice already?" She quested rather seriously. " _Time travel_ , asshat. There's a few aborted timelines where I got to personally bash your skull in, and _I enjoyed it every time."_

A lie, but she could afford to stretch the truth for a few minutes. She didn't take pleasure in killing- but she could remember a really _recent_ timeline where she quite literally had to jump on his fucking skull because he was a zombie and it had to happen. It had been ugly, and self-defense, and technically she hadn't been the one to finish him off, but those were all _irrelevant details._ She had to count on the fact that some part of his brain was _aware_ that she'd been violent with him before, in other times, other places, and that he would remember _just enough_ to be _afraid_ of her.

She needed him to fear her. _She needed to control him,_ just for today.

"If I thought it would make me _feel_ any better, I could _break your neck, right now,_ and then _undo it-"_ She observed, perchance with an _unhinged_ tremor in her loathing tone. A little tremble that maybe _already imagined what it would sound like. "_ You'd be having nightmares about it for _weeks,_ the sounds of your own _neck bones_ snapping right between your ears as your body goes slack in the split seconds of awareness you have left-but _right now?_ The only thing that's going to make me feel _any better_ is if you fucking _surrender."_

" _Surrender-_ but- but _Kyle-"_

" _I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR PETTY BULLSHIT!"_ Dee roared, watching as the fat kid _cowered_ beneath the force of her voice as it was projected from the diaphragm. " _I don't see how you can be so DELUSIONAL as to think it's OKAY to help a fucking PEDOPHILE in the name of the DUMBEST RIVALRY in the HISTORY OF EVER!"_

Cartman cried out, hands thrown up to protect his face as he whimpered- he presented a tempting target, _really, he did-_ but again, that wouldn't help. If she _touched_ him, this whole process would get drug out even further than it already had. Even if she just wanted to use him as a temporally displaced punching bag, would she be able to focus enough to come back to the right point? Or would she be so high on adrenaline that she wouldn't be able to aim her time-ripping ass to the correct moment? No, no, as much as she _wished_ it was, violence wasn't the answer.

Not today. Today was about _verbal_ warfare, about phrases and _posturing._ Panting, regaining her breath, she finally took a step back and inhaled deeply. A few strands of curly red hair were pushed away from her face as she smoothed her palms over the top of her skull, letting out the contents of her lungs in a deep sigh that brought her back to a regular rhythm.

Slowly, Cartman rose out of his cowering posture, though his hands were still held around collar-level, ready to jump up and protect his face if she suddenly changed her mind and decided to wail on him.

"I'm going to make this _very clear,_ Eric- I don't care about _Kyle winning,_ I care about _Ms. Lehman losing._ If she walks today, I will personally engineer a timeline in which I use your _decapitated head_ as a place to rest my _balls_ for the rest of eternity- and then I'll _undo it_ and come back to _this timeline_ so you get live, having _de'ja'vu_ and _nightmares_ about it for the rest of you for _goddamned life. GOT IT?!"_

 _I mean, I don't actually have testicles to rest on your head, but that's besides the point._

"Y-yes Douchebag-! Oh my god- _yes-! Yes-! I got it- mmneeeeeh..."_

He was whimpering again, making those pathetic _mewling_ noises he did when he felt overwhelmed, eyes screwed shut and fingers clawing into his carefully combed hair as he didn't know what else to do with himself.

Satisfied, Dee turned to leave the bathroom. At the door, she looked back. Cartman had lifted his head and cracked his eyes open to stare after her. In a pointed reminder, she reached down and grabbed the crotch of her pants, which instantly made him cower again.

 _Good enough._

* * *

"Dee! Dee! Over here!"

Frantically waved hands called Dee down to one of the tables that was set up in the cafeteria; Kyle had managed to get a spot, along with Wendy, Stan, and- _oh goodness Kenny and Kevin._ When had Kevin come back? The last Dee saw him, he'd run the fuck away. And... Kenny was sitting next to him? After their fight? Sure, he'd come to the pre-trial meeting with Kevin, but she'd assumed that had been in a more _escort_ capacity than anything, to make sure he didn't chicken out. Now, with the two of them sitting side-by-side... it seemed different. More understanding. It as _choice,_ not _obligation._

Still buzzing with adrenaline, she found herself _floating_ through the crowd to join the table, Kenny having saved a seat for her that was on his other side, and across from Kyle.

"Oh my _God,_ dude, we just got the biggest break!" Kyle told Dee with excitement.

She cocked her head, curious. What was going on? Kyle looked happy, when last she'd seen he'd been like the Judge; angry and broken.

"We got new evidence, we're going to try and convince the defense to accept a settlement- Cartman got all the _non consensual photos_ thrown out, right?"

 _Right, I remember that part. It was the part where I lost my shit, about twenty minutes ago._

"It turns out, Kevin took some pictures of his own!" Stan proclaimed, grinning at the eldest person at the table... who _still_ didn't look all that comfortable around them.

" _Shuttup,_ it's not that big a deal, it's like personal porn." He insisted. "But _I_ took the photos, so, that makes it consensual... right? I mean, she _posed,_ too."

"We submitted them to evidence through Ms. Misty just a minute ago." Kyle explained. "They're already talking to Ms. Lehman- it's _her_ decision if she wants to settle, not her defense lawyer, though she'll probably wait for his advice before she makes a decision, so... it's not over yet. Cartman will probably drag it out- _still!_ It's evidence he can't just have _nullified_ because he doesn't like it."

Dee blinked a few times. _Actually, if the kid knows what's good for him..._

"What do we do if the fat sack of shit _does_ wanna drag it out?" Kevin asked. "... do I have to take the stand, again?"

"Oh, _no,_ we still haven't called Ms. Lehman." Kyle pointed out. "All these pictures involve her, so I'll get to grill her about how they were taken, why she has them, all of that. She probably won't answer much- she has the right not to incriminate herself by pleading the fifth, but that won't look much better than if she answers... and did you see the _jury?_ Pretty much all the boys looked scared of her, and the girls looked grossed out."

" _Weren't you going to call me at some point?"_ Kenny asked, muffled through his signature hood; it _wasn't_ a school day, so he hadn't taken his parka off.

"For sympathy points, if we need them." Kyle agreed. "You were the person Dee finally talked to when he needed help, after all, and the first person to really figure out that he was in real _trouble._ You'd be the testimony that gets our juror's thinking 'what if it had been one of my friends? Would I have helped?'- drumming up either sympathy from the ones who answer that question _yes_ in their minds, or _guilt_ from the ones who answer _no."_

"Damn, dude, this lawyer shit sounds pretty manipulative. _"_ Stan marveled.

"Why do you think Cartman is so _good_ at it?" Wendy noted snidely. "I feel like we should be _winning,_ public opinion is certainly on our side. Pretty much everyone on my live-stream is calling for blood- but as far as the evidence is concerned, we don't have nearly enough to prosecute for the _entire folder_ of victims if we want to keep the rape charges in there- not after Cartman got so much of it thrown out."

"But that's where my photos come in, right? That's pictures that _can't_ get thrown out, because I took them, and that sorta proves that the rest were real... I guess? _Fuck_ this really isn't my shit." Kevin shook his head, looking _frustrated_.

"That's right." Kyle encouraged. "Even if the other pictures got thrown out, the jury has still _seen them,_ they can't just _forget._ They'll see your addition as evidence that Cartman is lying to them, or at least casting doubt on his idea that the evidence packet was faked. It makes his whole premise shaky- which is _why_ we offered the settlement. It's basically a way of telling the defense 'we've got you, _submit.'-_ or that's how my dad tells it. Either way, Cartman's in trouble."

"Oh, hey, there he is- the little _shit-bag."_ Kevin appeared to be adopting a nickname for Cartman that Dee certainly wasn't going to argue with. "Just coming out of the... bathrooms? Didn't _this fucker_ just come from there?" Kevin asked, his head perking up and tracking Cartman as he moved surprisingly quickly across the lunchroom to his own group- his mother, already holding down a table for him, sitting with a Ms. Lehman, who had a cop by her side for security. Now that Dee was looking, she could see both Ms. Misty and the PC Super over there as well; no doubt to discuss the possible settlement.

 _Yes, **this fucker** did just come from over there, and that's all you really need to know. _

"What can you see, Kevin? I'm too short to get a good view..." Wendy asked, leaning up as tall as she could in her chair, but it wasn't helping much over the sea of people between the tables- Cartman's mother had literally selected a spot on the other side of the room from them.

"Not having a much better time over here." Kevin reported, half-standing up as he tried to see. "... they're talking, the shit-bag looks unhappy. Arguing, the _bitch_ is slamming her hands on the table, pointing fingers... cop yelled at her, the hot lady at the table is comforting Cartman- oh, god, is that his _mom?"_

" _Yes."_ Kyle answered with a roll of his eyes. "She enables him."

" _Right,_ Judge has his hands out, offering something? Bitch teacher looks interested, Cartman is-"

" _But mooooooooooooom!"_

Pretty much the whole lunch room heard that one.

"Whining. That might actually be a _good_ sign." Stan commented.

"Nodding, they've decided _something."_ Kevin reported, sitting back down.

"Let's hope it's something in our _favor."_ Kyle urged, trying to keep everyone thinking positive.

 _We're about to find out._ Dee thought to herself. _The PC Super is coming this way._

* * *

The energy of the room was different, once the gym was once again packed to the gills and ready for the trial to reconvene. Maybe it was her own perspective, but the air no longer felt so _heavy,_ so _oppressive_.Everyone was taking their places once more, with the PC Super stepping up to be the Judge, his signature sunglasses back in place as he did so. Cartman and Lehman were back at the defense's bench, but Cartman looked decidedly _unhappy..._ which made Dee _very_ happy. She was back at the other bench with Kyle, who had a rather _pleased_ look on his face. Behind them, excited whispering was buzzing away like electricity as every inch of free space was filled.

At the head of it all, the PC Judge once again banged his gavel to call this mock trial back into order. Once the mass of humanity had gone quiet, he stood up to call additional attention to himself. In one hand, he now had a wireless microphone to better speak to the entire room.

"During the recess, the prosecution and defense reached a settlement, in light of new evidence. Ms. Abigail Lehman, would you please rise?"

As instructed, the woman stood up. To the confusion of many audience members, the PC Judge also stepped _down_ from his raised platform above everyone. The two eventually came to be standing side-by-side in the center of the 'court' area, facing out towards the audience.

"In accordance to the settlement, Ms. Abigail Lehman has agreed to the following terms- _ahem."_ He reached into the black robe he'd been wearing since the beginning, completing the _judge_ look he'd been rocking, despite the sunglasses. "200 hours community service, a global restraining order from all school zones in the state of Colorado, a restraining order from all students with whom she had alleged relations with, five years in a state-run prison, personally issuing a formal apology..."

At this point the PC Judge paused, handing the microphone over to Lehman. She took it gingerly, eyeing it for a moment before nodding her acceptance and speaking into it. "I would like to _formally_ apologize for my misconduct, to everyone who was effected by it."

 _Lip-service, get to the **good part.**_

" _And."_ The PC Judge continued as the microphone was handed back to him. "One _completely sanctioned beat-down_ from the plaintiff, or chosen representative there of- the plaintiff opted for a representative, which is me."

"Wait, _what?_ You were _serious_ about that? I thought it was a _joke."_ Ms. Lehman protested, blinking and jerking her head towards the Judge. She didn't have the mic, so not everyone could hear her- no doubt to the rest of the room it looked like she was trying to weasel out of something she'd already agreed to, and those at the edges of the court area just now realized they were getting _ring-side seats_ to a terribly unbalanced boxing match.

The PC Judge had turned off the mic, tossing it off to the side. A cheer was going up as citizens of South Park remembered how _pissed_ they'd all been when they arrived here. The wig was next to go, along with the big black robe, leaving the town's most _jacked_ school official in a sleeveless shirt and a belted pair of slacks to face-off against a woman who had not been prepared for this.

"I never joke about social justice, Abigail."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _HOLY SHIT I MADE IT!_

So yeah, how to get Dee to talk to you; either be someone she trusts, or someone she _hates to the end of the goddamned earth._

Not that she got Cartman to back down alone- if Liane hadn't been there he would have fought this shit to the death with Kyle and we all know it.

And now? We have one last chapter- _the aftermath._

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	15. An Ace Monday END

**:: I Need an Adult – An Ace Monday::**

" _... and now, the news program that starts your day off right: GOOD MORNING SOUTH PARK!"_

" _Good morning, South Park! Our top story today concerns the events of a 'mock trial' that took place at South Park Middle School yesterday morning; marketed to the town as a way for students to get to know the justice system better and open to the public, some shocking details have recently been revealed about the proceedings, as well as the results. Here with more is a midget in a bikini."_

" _Thanks Tom! As you know, our news station aired the trial in its entirety, but what we didn't know what that the Mayor secretly ordained the PC Superintendent, the leader of our school district, as a judge shortly before this 'mock' trail began, giving him all the powers of a real judge in a real court. Not only was the settlement reached by the prosecution and defense legally binding, it also resulted in the perfectly legal **savage beat-down** suffered by the defendant, one Ms. Abigail Lehman, who was tried for numerous counts of sexual coercion, rape, blackmail, and extortion of her male students. Let's hear more from people who were actually there-" _

" _It was more than I ever hoped for! That **extortionist** got exactly what she deserved after stealing from her students- at first it was just the PC Super beating up on her, but then **everyone** joined in- the prosecution, the defense, even the jury got in on the action. By the time it was over, the police had to escort her bloody butt out of there!" _

" _I rarely condone violence as the answer, but in my opinion, she got what she deserved- it could have been **my** son she targeted." _

" _Dude, she like, couldn't even walk out on her own when it was over- it was so **sick.** I feel like I should have been payin' to see what I saw." _

" _South Park can rest easy now, knowing that this dangerous woman will be sent to a state prison, as soon as she's recovered enough from her injuries to do so. Back to you, Tom."_

" _Thanks midget! And let me just say that I for one am glad that my son will be able to feel safe at school after this. On to our next story..."_

* * *

 _Saturday._ The one true free day in any given weekend. A day for sleeping in, watching cartoons, eating junk food for breakfast, and hanging out with pals.

Somehow, Dee had ended up hosting more than a dozen kids at her home for a sort of _after-party_ once it was all over; Cartman even showed up, escorted by his mother, though she was pretty sure he only came because he heard there was going to be cake. Said after-party, after it had gone entirely too late and everyone was entirely too full of celebratory food, _including cake,_ had turned into something of a giant sleep-over with boys sleeping down in the living room, and girls taking the upstairs landing, with Dee reserving her bedroom for herself. In part because she didn't want to sleep on the floor, in part because her parents would have thrown a _fit_ if she had opened up her room to any of her guests, as there was a _'no closed doors'_ policy whenever she had company over, regardless of gender.

That said, what her parents didn't _know_ didn't hurt them... and they went to bed at like _ten, back when it was still Friday night,_ perchance to enjoy some 'celebration' themselves while all the kids were making entirely too much noise throughout the rest of the house.

It felt like a happy ending, but there were parts of it that just hadn't _settled_ inside Dee's skull. At first she'd been into it, but then she'd removed herself from the party about about two AM; when the majority of kids started passing out. She'd been awake long enough to see Kevin muscle in on the couch because he was the biggest kid there, but then give away the majority of the extra pillows on it to other boys sleeping on the floor. As she'd been heading up to hide away in her room, she'd seen Wendy and Bebe, tucking in Karen, who had tried out fast but wanted to celebrate with her brothers. The girls had pretty much put the smallest of their number in the middle of a girl-fortress, giving her the majority of the bedding that had been disgorged from various linen closets around the house and laying down around her as the most precious member of their company.

There were _smiles_ everywhere, but Dee just felt _exhausted._ She felt some of that in Kevin, the idea that this ordeal was somehow _over,_ but he was still a goddamned grouch- then again, that might have been because there was no booze at this party. She thought maybe _Kenny_ would get it, but he'd been whole-hog in the party, jumping up and down, yelling, _dancing_ when music was provided, and plenty else. He had a ball of energy, the venerable _life of the party,_ and she just hadn't felt the energy to keep up with that.

She also wasn't tired enough to fall asleep. Two AM rolled over to three, then nearly four- and then, a tiny, tentative knock came on Dee's door.

 _At four AM on Saturday morning._

She'd given up on sleeping a while ago, instead idly browsing the internet, occasionally clicking through a few cute cat photos or a silly set of gifs. The knock she heard seemed to _fear_ that she was already asleep, or, more accurately, _feared_ that it might wake her if she were. Blinking, she figured it must have been one of the girls, perchance feeling vulnerable on the upstairs landing and hoping for greater security. Dee couldn't offer her room, but she knew where a noisy-ass baby gate was that could be used to block the stairs if the girls were _really_ worried about it.

Instead, when she answered the door... she found Kenny. He still had his hood on, which appeared to be _detachable,_ because the rest of the jacket was missing. Beneath was an old shirt that may have been white in a previous life, but now was a dirty brownish-gray. His shoes were gone, too, with toes peeking out of ratty socks. It appeared the only thing besides the hood that he still retained of his usual attire were the matching pants to his parka.

Behind him, a cluster of sleeping girls who were dutifully curled around his little sister- a cluster he would have had to oh-so-carefully step around to get to her room.

" _Hey."_ He said through his hood. _"Do you got a minute?"_

 _I have all the minutes in the fucking world for you._ She nodded a little, waving him in and quietly shutting the door after him. She wouldn't speak- it wasn't safe. Thin walls, shitty doors; the house was just too _sound-permeable,_ and there were too many possible ears around. She was beginning to think she was getting to loose with her tongue, particularly after yelling at Cartman. At the time it had felt so _great,_ but afterwards? It felt like she was doing the same thing Ms. Lehman had- using fear to try and control him. If her power _was_ somehow tied in with her voice, she had run the risk of doing the kid some real damage... then again, Cartman seemed _too fucked up_ on his own to really internalize anything else.

Kenny passed into her room with a quick glance around- usually when they hung out here, it was to play games; always in the afternoon, always with the door open so Dee's parents could check in. In the dark, with the door closed and the faint blue light of the computer? It seemed a different place, and he looked like he didn't know what to do with himself.

Dee approached him from behind, reaching out to put a guiding hand on his shoulder and tug him along so the two of them could sit on her unmade bed. She at the head of it with her current favorite pillow smushed up against corner the bed was pressed into, he at the foot of it, the pair facing each other.

" _I wanted to apologize-"_

She put her hand up the moment he said it- she wouldn't have it. She knew _why_ he felt that way, mainly because _she felt it too._

 _Don't, Kenny. You tried to help me when this all started, remember, and I did_ _ **everything**_ _I could to shrug you off. If anyone owes an apology here, it's me._

" _... you're sorry, too?"_

She nodded, a silent confirmation. They'd both been wrestling with this; both independent in their nature, both _utterly_ stubborn... and both _desperate_ to protect one another. This wasn't the first time they'd butted heads over _who got to protect who,_ and it probably wouldn't be the last.

It was probably the most _intense_ time, though. _So far,_ anyway.

" _Well shit, that's all I had."_ He let out a short laugh- one of those cute ones he made when he was with friends, almost a _giggle_ that came out of his hood. Even as they were getting older, and his voice had dropped a touch, he still had that same sweet laugh. _"I guess I should go, before I do something to get you in trouble."_ He added that last bit with a playful wink- almost _flirtatious_ as he moved to get up and escape.

Was he _nervous_ around her? Yeah, sure, he knew she was a girl now, but that hadn't seemed to have too direct of an _effect_ on anything so far... but maybe Dee had been fooling herself when she thought he could just _ignore_ it. Despite all the times they'd been alone together in her room, this was possibly the first time she'd detected he was _unsure_ of how to interact with her.

 _Just like I was unsure of how to interact with him when I first came out to him._

She reached out to him, grabbing him by the back of his ratty-ass shirt. The thing was threadbare, so thin she feared her nails might rip right through it, but her action did achieve the desired effect of _stopping_ him and getting him to look back at her. She could see it in his face- _he was nervous._ Why? She'd seen him unrepentantly flirt with plenty of people, without being self-conscious. It was common knowledge that Kenny was a _lech,_ and openly advertised his interest in other people's bodies with a particular stress on breasts. She figured that, once he knew, he _might_ flirt with her. She had more than accepted it, she had actually kinda _expected_ it.

And here, after a first attempt, he was _running away?_

Her face asked a question, one that was dipped in coats of anxiety like one dipped a hand-made candle. This moment had _layers_ to it that had built up over time, in the days since she'd told him, in the conversations they'd been having since they started talking, in the _one subject they never fucking broached._

 _Am I not interesting to you?_

He blinked at her, a sort of _horror_ taking over his face as he detected the hurt folded into such a look. As quickly as he'd moved to leave, he stepped back. His butt plopped back on the edge of her bed, and he sat next to her.

" _On the other hand... I could stay."_

 _Titty tinsel on Christmas trees, this is fucking stupid and we both know it- why the fuck do I care so much about you, you blond, muffled, **goof-ball?** _

Even as she asked herself that question, she smiled at him. _Relief_ bled its way through, and she indicated her game system as a possible activity- if she turned the volume down, they could play for _hours_ before they were at risk of getting discovered together.

" _Oh fuck yes, I'll take you **down."**_ He agreed, a little bit of distraction taking the pressure off both of them.

 _Not without a fight you won't._

* * *

Monday morning had its share of disappointments; one of which being that Cartman was moved back to the first-hour science class, and was once again occupying the role of Dee's lab-partner.

There was, however, some _good news_ to be had as well- specifically, the fact that Ms. Lehman had been replaced.

The new teacher was a woman who was markedly _shorter-_ maybe five-foot even, _if that._ She had dark hair, cut short in a way that almost gave her a _pixie-like_ look, and a cute face that centered around a little button nose and a bright, if somewhat befuddled, smile.

"Good morning!" She called upon her original entrance, having come into the classroom _after_ the warning bell rang and the majority of her students were already seated for their first hour. She moved with _energy,_ chirruping her greeting again as she made it to the front and rounded to face everyone. "Good morning! Hello, class, I'm your new science teacher- my name is Ms. Eise-Herr, but if you have trouble remembering that you can just call me _Ace,_ 'cause that's what I am."

Glances were exchanged between students who didn't understand what she meant. Blithely, Cartman called out; "You have a gambling problem? I don't think you should be telling the class that, miss teacher- there's self-help groups for that."

Ms. Eise-Herr blinked, eyebrows rising up before she let out a bright laugh. "Oh, no, that's not what I mean at all- I mean I'm _Ace,_ as in _asexual;_ it's a nick-name I picked up in collage when I first came out and-"

" _Asexual?"_ Bebe chimed in, interrupting. "What's that?"

"Oh! I figured- with the PC Super and everything, I thought you kids would know by- you know what, _that's_ a great way to get today started." The somewhat _bouncy_ teacher turned towards the front whiteboard, picking up a marker and spelling out the word _ASEXUALITY_ for the class, underlining it before turning back. "I identify my sexuality as _asexual-_ I don't experience sexual attraction to any gender. I don't really feel the urge to _be_ sexual, though that doesn't mean I don't enjoy affection or romantic relationships. I am a _hetero-romantic,"_ Another word, written on the white-board, preceding the word already there. "Asexual person, which means I have _romantic_ feelings for genders different than my own, specifically those identifying as male, but I don't have _sexual_ feelings for anyone."

"Aren't those the same thing?" Cartman questioned, _loudly._

"Not at all!" Ace responded without losing any of her brightness. "And even among people who _are_ ace, there is a range of willingness to participate. Some ace persons are also aromatic, so they don't experience romantic feelings either, just platonic feelings like friendship and trust. Some ace persons are _sex repulsed,_ they want nothing to do with the physical act of sex, while others are not and will engage in physical acts simply because it makes their partner happy; much like taking your partner out to their favorite restaurant. It may not be _your_ favorite, but that big smile blooms on their face and-" She blinked, realizing that she was getting off-topic. " _Anyway!_ The point is that your Superintendent _hand-picked_ me to replace your previous teacher, so that you all could feel safe in this class."

" _Safe and stupid, am I right, Douchebag?"_ Cartman questioned in what he might have thought was a whisper, but it really wasn't. Then again, Ace had already begun ignoring him, erasing the whiteboard to instead focus on the lesson plan for the day.

Dee, on the other hand, only turned her head a fraction and _glared._

" _What?_ All I'm sayin' is that anyone who _introduces_ themselves as a fucking _card_ in a game as a nickname for some _special bullshit sexuality_ is obviously covering for the biggest gambling problem in _history,_ and probably playing _hard to fucking get_ for _someone."_

The glare didn't ease off, but Dee didn't push. Really, it was like stepping back into normal- Cartman was still an asshat, thus all was right with the world. For now? She'd turn her attention back to the lesson.

She was sure life would get weird again, soon enough.

 _ **~Fin**_

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _Yes, the Ace teacher's name is literally 'Eyes-Here', as in 'My eyes are up here'._

For anyone who is a Star Trek fan, I sorta based her appearance off of the actress who portrays Ezri Dax in DS9. For those who are not, you now have a name to look up in case you're curious. XD

 _ANYWAY!_ That's another story finished, and I am so damn proud of myself! This one was a _lot_ of fun, once I found my groove of balancing the serious with the zany.

Next time, we're heading into _full on romantic drama territory,_ so make sure to add me to your Author Alert list so you get pinged for the next one! It's going to be called **Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard,** and I hope you're looking forward to it as much as I am. In the meantime, you can always follow me over on Tumblr to help keep your hype up, shoot me a message, or even ask Dee some questions and get in-character responses. Sometimes I even sketch up little pictures in response to asks. As I've said before, the username is the same as the one here, so if you search justcallmebuttlord over on Tumblr my blog should come right up.

Until next time,

- _Buttlord_


End file.
